


Never Be Your Own Psychiatrist

by AlJeDd



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Daddy!Will, F/M, Hannibal is the lil baby, M/M, Multi, Non-Sexual Age Play, alana is so confused, and jack is their tired dad, auntie!alana, baby!hannibal, bedelia wants to be a mummy, bev is like the boys' older sister, brian and jimmy are like rowdy brothers, forced age play, mummy!bedelia, uncle!jack, we all need baby Hanni in our lives, will wants to be a daddy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4811543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlJeDd/pseuds/AlJeDd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>oh hey new story<br/>still continuing with the other<br/>but like baby hanni<br/>I couldn't resist<br/>#sorrynotsorry</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh hey new story  
> still continuing with the other  
> but like baby hanni  
> I couldn't resist  
> #sorrynotsorry

Hannibal is a strong, independent man. He doesn't need anyone to take care of him. He can look after himself just fine! It's just that...sometimes he forgets to have a drink other than a late-night glass of wine. Unless he prepares a meal beforehand, sometimes Hannibal forgets to eat. No biggie. Will does it all the time! And he hasn't dropped dead yet! It isn't like he's starving himself either. No, he has a lost a bit of weight though.

Hannibal doesn't really know when it all started but suddenly he was in high demand, and his schedule went from pleasantly capable to downright busy. He has a fifteen minute break in the entire day, if he's lucky - something he greatly appreciates when there is a constant stream of patients. Never mind nine-til-five; Lecter works a twelve hour shift everyday, except for Sundays (Saturdays are a three hour period). So there will inevitably be times when he wil get home and be too tired to do anything but collapse on the bed.

Once (maybe twice, Hannibal recalls) the therapist was so tired that he fell asleep at the dining room table and woke up the morning after in a puddle of drool with horrendous backache whilst wearing the same clothes. He was not impressed with himself - it definitely would not be one of his finest moments. Extra caution was taken for a month due to that incident, but eventually fatigue outwit the blond and now he doesn't really care how he wakes up; it's the sleep he craves.

It happens several times at his own psychiatric session with Doctor Du Maurier; Hannibal doesn't even remember the events. Halfway into his chat with the fellow therapist, his eyelids begin to droop. The sounds around him fade, like a picture blurs. Hannibal attempts to rid the sleep from his eyes by rubbing them with fisted hands, looking awfully like a toddler in doing so, but to no avail. Bedelia sits patiently, legs crossed elegantly whilst her arms drape over her lap. A hint of a smirk plays at her plump lips as her twinkling cerulean eyes gaze over the yawning man.

Fatigue overrules, and Hannibal drifts off. With a soft coo, Bedelia wraps a blanket over the blond's torso, and leaves to get some scotch. When Hannibal wakes, he is deeply embarrassed, profuse apologies spewing from his lips as he rubs at his eyes again and attempts to disguise his flushed cheeks. Bedelia pays no mind; just tells him to get some sleep before their next session. He leaves abruptly, ashamed with himself and utterly flustered.

* * *

* * *

It happens with Will too. He visits the secluded house, surrounded by dogs galore. Will sheepishly shoos the pets away, tossing a ball far out onto the field. He invites the therapist in, offering him some tea or coffee. Hannibal, only out of politeness, sits elegant on the couch - he appears so out of place with his immaculacy in such a shabby home. Exhausted from his day, the tired man sinks into the seat, relaxing for the first time since he woke in the morning. His eyelids droop; and in record time Hannibal is fast asleep. Will enters, his greeting swallowed at the sight of the unconscious man asleep on his couch.

Graham is awed to see the youth in Hannibal's wise, cultured face. He looks softer, the stone expression eroded into peace. The pale skin that frames Lecter's face is bruised around the eye sockets, clear lack of sleep evident. Will doubts Hannibal will wake anytime soon; at least not unless disturbed. The brunet abandons the beverages steaming his palms on a nearby coffee table, replacing the mugs with a warm woollen blanket. It appears to be the cleanest one around; save for the few stray dog hairs here and there. He brushes them away, carefully draping the material over the man that appears to be dead to the world. Life goes on.

An hour after his necessary nap, the therapist rouses in a bemused state. A chuckle emits from Will's lips at the waking man with fluffy, askew hair and drool drying against the corners of his lips. Hannibal, now aware of his surroundings, makes a small noise of irritation; he has once again made a fool of himself. With his calm aura, the blond stands, body cracking with his eyes averted. Will is surprised - though he refuses to allow it past his amused expression.

Regretful, Hannibal gathers himself and apologises for his burdening company in a relaxed manner, words pronounced not in a rushed way, but a way that only Will - as a man that knows Hannibal's habits like the back of his hand - would know how embarrassed he is. Will waves his hand - dismissing the apology with a smirk.

“Don't sweat it,” he reassures, tone light but not teasing.

“I am not sweating. I do profusely apologise though for my carelessness.” Hannibal responds in confusion.

With a chuckle, accompanies, “It's an expression. And you aren't careless. You fell asleep; better it be me than with a patient, huh?” Will replies. Hannibal hesitates, thinks. The nods, a minute one but still a gesture that shows his discomfort.

Lecter clears his throat - not to break an awkward air (there isn't one) but to use it as a departure. Will shakes his head, and stands at the front door. Hannibal frowns, there one moment, vanished the next. It doesn't go unnoticed. Following the soft command, the blond sits on the couch again, resting his coat on the arm. The dogs are nowhere t be seen, but Winston trots from behind a chair and jumps up to laze next to Hannibal. The furry friend is acknowledge by a pat on the head, and he licks the calloused hand that scrubs the spot  behind his ear.

Will smiles at the compliance, glad that he has someone to spend his Saturday with that isn't a nightmare/encephalitis fuelled hallucination. He joins Hannibal on a chair close to the couch, set off just to the right, as a mound of dogs stream through the now opened door. They pay the men no mind as their only intentions are to gain a good spot on the floor in front of the fireplace.

* * *

People begin to notice Hannibal slipping. He always looks shattered, deep sockets sunken and bruised. Eyes bloodshot and dry, matching his chapped lips. Self diagnosis reveals that Hannibal suffers with a cold serious enough to turn into the flu if he doesn't rest or eat. The once built frame of Hannibal's torso is now weak and malnourished, ribs and elbows jutting as his hips protrude. His perfectly tailored clothes are beginning to swamp him and he has found his slacks slip and he has to pull them up discretely.

His unkempt insinuation worries both Will and Alana, who each express their concerns during hours after work. Jack visits the man sometimes, and explains the man prefers to be alone, but that he will not stop trying to help the blond. Bedelia advises Hannibal to take some time off work, but he refuses. The man knows he would simply collapse into bed and not rise for days - simply because he does not care any longer.

His only motivation is hunting; even the pieces he leaves are sloppier, but nobody realises the link. To stop the man from losing his mind, Will invites him over a few Saturdays after the incident and slips a sedative into his offered drink. At least then, as the therapist falls under a drug fuelled haze of sleep, Will can sigh in relief that he is witnessing the precious rare moments of relaxation Hannibal desperately needs.

He thinks upon seeking advice, and not just the concerned verbal responses from Jack and Alana. Will thinks about everyone Hannibal has ever mentioned to him before - and his mind clicks at a sudden epiphany. Whilst unbeknownst to the sleeping psychiatrist on the couch, Graham roots through Hannibal's phone to find the contact he wants. He saves the number in his own phone and also finds the email address for further communication. He has found Doctor Du Maurier.

Hopeful that they can converse on behalf of Hannibal's current predicament, Will leaves Hannibal to rest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> accidents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Christ this has turned out better than the other story! But who can resist widdle babby Hanni? Not me...

Hannibal has redeemed himself after the sleeping incidents two months back. After several lectures on benefits of a short break, Hannibal reluctantly took a few days away from work to retune his sleep schedule. Back on track, he even managed to eat enough too. Will and Alana were pleased, and visited not too often during the weeks to check up on him after work (never together). Instead of whining about their concerns for him, they praised his improvement.

All that progress went down hill one therapy session. Bedelia, impressed by the unwilling compliance to stay off work, asked Hannibal if he would try a new form of therapy. Wary, Hannibal was finally convinced, and sat in the opposite chair obediently.

He sits on the chair, refusing to show nerves. Bedelia injects his arm with DMT - Lecter is unaware of the drug pumping through his system as he feels different. A high-pitched hum bursts through his ears, although he knows Doctor Du Maurier can't hear it he still stares at her eyes. Then, she is gone, replaced by blinding arrays of colour. The room shifts to a dome, located deep underground where strange, foggy creatures live. A giggle, quite a familiar giggle, echoes in the dome. Hannibal stares in disbelief as Mischa runs towards him with her cherub rosy cheeks and glittering wide eyes. His parents are in the distance.

And then, it ends.

The creatures vanish, Hannibal accelerates back up to surface level, losing sight of the colours and the marvelling wonder and his dead family. When Lecter opens his eyes, Bedelia is grinning at him with soft eyes. She says nothing, simply dabs a cloth at his tear stained cheeks and sits in her chair. Hannibal grows internally upset. Did he cry? He would hate it if he cried; the man despises any form of weakness in himself. He is God. And God doesn't cry.

Doctor Du Maurier watches the battling man gleefully, hoping that he will seek her comfort. And he does. His eyes bore into her own, glossy from the drug and previous crying. Her intention: to have him release some emotion he probably bottles up (although he didn't weep as much as she would have preferred). The elegant woman stands, gracefully moving so she stands above Hannibal, her slender figure towering over his.

Bedelia raises a hand to card through Hannibal's hair, the gel wearing away under her touch and mussing the blond strands. They grow soft and fluffy, and the look makes Hannibal appear so much more youthful than ever before. He allows her to stroke his scalp, even leans into her touch slightly. The pair remain in their positions for the most of ten minutes, before Bedelia steps away declaring she has another appointment due soon and that she needs to prepare.

Disconcerted, Lecter unwillingly rises and goes through the polite farewells, before he is seen to the door. He does not regret this session. The drive home is quiet and lonely - Hannibal finds himself craving touch. He wants someone to step up to the plate and give him some comfort (he would never dare insinuate contact nor deny it); perhaps Will, or Alana, heck maybe even Bedelia again, if she allows.

 

 

Deep into the cold night, Hannibal vividly dreams of his childhood, beginning with happy memories before and after his sister's birth. But then, as the clouds take spotlight over the moon, Lecter's dreams also grow darker. To the day his entire life changed. His families' death and times in his father's castle forced to be an orphan in a system where you are no more than a number. Then growing up into the man he is now. But every scene he replays, little Mischa stands off to one side, giggling with her stuffed toy clutches under the same arm that wears the tiny bracelet.

Hannibal wakes with a start, rubbing at his throbbing, wet eyes. He sniffs, more upset at crying over the dream more so than having the dream itself. A pungent smells hits him, and disgust crashes over Lecter as he jumps from the bed and rips his clothes away. He bundles them in the sheets and discards them in the washing machine with a huff. By the time Hannibal has changed the bed and his underwear, the night is practically over.

Instead, the man prepares himself for the day, checking his schedule and feeling glad that Will is due later in the afternoon. He has also decided to narrow down his appointments, so he has time for a break rather than skipping from patient to problem nonstop. He hopes he won't look as crap as he feels.


	3. Chapter 3

After a tiring day in the office, Hannibal is excited to see his favourite patient. Will enters, taking a quick glance at his therapist before collapsing on the chair in the centre of the room. Hannibal joins him, after briefly stretching his aching muscles. They sit for a moment, watching each other blankly until Will leans closer.

“You didn't sleep much last night, did you?” he speaks.

“Not as much as I would have desired, no.” Hannibal honestly answers, his eyes trained on Will's.

“Neither did I, if it makes you feel any more enlightened.”

“It does.”

“Nightmare? You as though you were startled.”

“What was I startled about?”

“Something unexpected happened. You weren't fond of that particular occurrence either.”

“I was not.”

“Look, Hannibal, you look like crap and if you're feeling anything like your appearance then I suggest you go home.”

“Shouldn't I be the one making the suggestions here?”

“Oh, don't be so rash. C'mon, go home and have some time to yourself.”

“But then we would end this meeting short. That would not be professional.”

“Us, professional? I think we've breached that subject long ago. I have nothing to discuss unless teacups or your health is involved.”

“You're concerned? There is no need. But I think I might grasp that opportunity to exit early.”

“I'm driving you, else we stay. You are too tired to drive yourself, and there shall be no accidents if I can prevent them.”

Hannibal tenses at the term accident. He does not want to be reminded of last nights predicament. Will catches on, a knowing look flashing before his eyes until it is gone at lightning speed. The blond flushes. Instead of sarcasm, Will stands, offering his hand to the exhausted male. Hannibal takes it, and he is hauled from his spot and guided by the small of his back to the door.

They collect Hannibal's coat and exit after the place is locked up. Will then leads his way to the Bentley, opening the passenger side for his therapist. Hannibal quietly thanks him, passing over the keys before settling into the comforting seat. Graham then hops into the driver's side, clicking his seatbelt in before smoothly backing out. In no time they are on the dark motorway, drifting along the empty roads - save for a couple of other cars.

The hum of the engine and gentle rocking soothes Hannibal to sleep, and with his head resting on the window, he snoozes silently. Will turns on the radio, an orchestral station seeping from the speakers; the brunet lowers the sound so not to wake Hannibal. No less than hour later, the pair arrive at Hannibal's house not too late into the night. Will struggles to understand how the blond would have lasted.

When Will cuts the ignition, he carefully slides out of the car and rushes to open the front door. He jogs back to the car and opens Hannibal's door, managing to pull the unconscious man out and carry him bridal style inside. He shuts the door with his foot as quietly as he can, manoeuvring around the house and up the stairs without any incidents. Will places Hannibal on his bed gently and undresses him down to his boxers. He then finds a pair of silken pyjamas (that matche the quilt) and proceeds to redress the blond.

Once Lecter is tucked in, he discards the clothes to find previously sodden pyjamas and underwear in the washing basket.

“Oh Hannibal,” he whispers sadly. The said man stirs in his sleep, but Will is rapid and shushes the man whilst he strokes the gelled hair. It takes seconds for the man to fall deep asleep again, and Will emits a sigh of relief.

He heads downstairs with a blanket in hand, peels of his scratchy jeans then sets himself on the couch, snuggled under the toasty blanket. Hannibal's wealth has provided him with a couch comfier than Will's mattress. The brunet is able to sleep easily, nightmares tucked under the blanket with no escape to Will's mind. It's the best slumber he's had for...well as long as he can remember.

Though Will being a light sleeper, immediately rouses at footsteps above. He creeps upstairs in only his shirt and boxers, standing at the peak of the staircase. Hannibal emerges from the bathroom naked on his lower half, muttering in Lithuanian. He doesn't notice Will, disappearing into his bedroom with the door ajar. Curious Graham cannot resist; making his way toward the room his feet are feathers on the laminate flooring.

One blue eye peeks through the crack, spotting Hannibal slipping on new underwear but leaving the bottoms. Before he settles to sleep, Hannibal catches Will with wide eyes. Will opens the door further, and steps inside. He keeps his movements calculated, sturdy, as if approaching a wary animal. The brunet is careful to keep Hannibal at ease, choosing to keep his eyes soft instead of smiling in fear that it be taken as patronising.

Hannibal straightens, eyes cold but expression worrisome. When Will no less than a metre away, Lecter emanates a sound similar to a mixed whimper-protest. After that he composes. He refuses to show his upset, albeit Will can feel it rolling off his body. A tanned hand reaches to reassure the blond, who leans in to the touch instinctively. Will grins, reaching up to kiss the blond's forehead. With the compliance, Will is able to tuck Hannibal in, save for the reluctance.

The blond slips into slumber once more, no words spoken as he sleeps silently with Will hovering. Eventually, he steps away and returns to his position on the couch to rest. In hours to come the pair shall discuss living and caring agreements; Will refuses to see Hannibal inhabit such a vast house on his own, especially as he struggles stilly with his issues. Such an honourable man would dare not to be seen weak - his reputation defines his being. For now, they sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Hannibal wakes early, his body programmed to rise no later than six-thirty on a weekday. His previous accident would not be spoke of to anyone if the incident the night before had not occurred. With the coffee beans spreading their scent so strongly from the kithen, Hannibal cannot resist visiting. Will leans his back on the pristine counter with mug in hand, sipping shrewdly with eyes locked on the newcomer. He offers the other beverage with a gestured head tilt, unwilling to utter the first greeting.

Lecter approaches, seemingly confident though Will reads his tension. Muscles contract at every movement, tight with anticipation. The taller retrieves his lidless cafetiere mug then recoils subtly; body retreating from the other man casually so not to appear deliberate. When the man feels securely distanced he sips the coffee noiselessly. The eyes on his bore realty into his thoughts; he feels them blink occasionally.

He averts his own gaze by staring intently at the flowers decorating his window sill. Nothing but the others' breathing indicates the presence of two men in the large room. Will discards of his mug in the sink - the clatter startles Hannibal though he does not jump. When Lecter has finished his share of the drink he is not immediate to remove the mug from his grip, and instead holds it between two clammy palms with a new confidence to seek Will's line of sight. They meet eyes, and surprisingly it is Hannibal to break the contact first.

“Morning. Did you sleep adequately?” Hannibal greets, the small talk a diversion from the sickening silence. Will nods, unruly curls bouncing in time.

“I did, you? I apologise for not waking you beforehand but you seemed so at ease I was not able to disturb you.” Will admits, but he doesn't awkwardly shift as expected.

“I did too. And that is fine, I am grateful for the consideration.” Hannibal replies, feeling a temptation to he himself move for the sake of a distractible activity.

“Do we need to discuss last night? You are aware that I know what happened, and your inference during our session.”

“Of course, but I would rather not.” and that was the end of the conversation.

Will did not press the matter further, did not attempt to hint confession or even discuss relatable topics. They spoke only of their usual converse, complaints of Jack and Alana's whereabouts. Not even an utter of the Ripper throughout the morning. At twelve o'clock, Will asks if Hannibal will drop him off at the office so he can get his car, then return later for dinner. They do so, and hours later Lecter greets Graham in a fresh three-piece suit.

Will himself is clad in a button up too fancy to be classed as his usual casual attire, and denim jeans are freshly cleaned and appear to be a newer pair. He brings nothing; it isn't a form of date. Hannibal would protest anyway as his only desire is for Will to actually turn up. Led by the small of his back, Will is navigated to the dining room. He seats himself - noticing though deciding against mentioning the extra place set opposite his. Hannibal leaves for the kitchen.

A knock at the door alerts the blond therapist, as he calmly strolls to the answer it. He converses with another guest, this one being female (from what Will can hear) and particularly flattered to be invited. When the pair enter, Will stands courteously to introduce himself. They shake hands, Graham forcing himself to hold eye contact efore they break apart and seat themselves. Hannibal lives up to his gentlemanly role of attending the woman's seat, aiding her to sit with a nudge of the chair.

Will is silent, intent on waiting for the guest to give him her name.

“Well,now that we are settled, I can fully introduce myself. I am known as Doctor Du Maurier, but you can call me Bedelia in this circumstance.” the woman says. Will masks hi surprise with a smile, and she returns the gesture.

“Will Graham.” he responds.

“I believe we have communicated. About you-know-who. Confidentiality reasons, of course.” Will knows in undersanding, making sure not to say exactly the man in question.

“We have. It's nice to finally meet you in the flesh.” a polite sentence Will does not find too hard to say.

“Albeit unexpected.” Bedelia comments.

“Isn't everything unexpected? Especially in our roles in society.” he rapidly adds.

“Noted. So why might our favourite host decide to invite the two of us, when we are categorised in completely different social circles?” Bedelia inquires.

“That, I would have the answer to,” Hannibal intervenes. He balances dishes perfectly, keeping extra care to make it seem effortless. Neither guests prepare for anything other; both obviously aware and adapted to his pretentious, show-off behaviour. Though the answer to Bedelia's great question is never truly established, Hannibal does proceed to address Will and Bedelia as he recites the foreign, ridiculously long-named recipe he has cooked.

Once everyone has began tucking in to their meals, a comfortable silence only they would not find awkward settles in the air. The aroma of roasted chicken (at least that is what Hannibal declared it was) fills the thick, smoky air, though it is not suffocating. An atmosphere of homely cosiness, almost as sense of domesticity is made aware, despite nobody sharing their day or stating the weather.

The silence is maintained until the very end, at the point in which Hannibal offers to start the fire for their miniature gathering. The participants agree, prepared to snatch this opportunity (it's even better that there's two of them). Lecter, completely oblivious, is delighted that they want to spend more time together and that everyone is getting along like a sailing boat on calm waters. He is quick to ignite the flames, watching them for a lingering moment as they flicker before joining the others on the antique seats.

They all gaze at the flickering glow of the fire, mesmerised or pretending to be. The pair decline drinks, saying they need to be sober enough t drive home and that they want to instead of haling a taxi. Soon enough, Hannibal is on the verge of tipsy and Bedelia is proving to be an excellent distraction. Earlier on they hatched a plan, when the doctor handed Will a needle containing God knows he knew it was his complete responsibility. And now is the time.

Will stands, excusing himself with a claim that he needs to relieve himself. After 'returning' - by simply hovering in the hallway - Graham silently creeps behind his psychiatrist and in one shot he manages to lodge the needle into Hannibal's arm and inject the solution. Seconds later, Will is carrying Hannibal out to Bedelia's car deep into the night. The blond is unconscious, unaware of the unseeing world around him in his vulnerable state.

An agreement for Will to follow closely behind Bedelia is made, and after the doctor has locked the now barren house up she is off, her partner like her shadow. She drives to her house with the knowledge that Hannibal has never visited there nor would he recognise it. Will equally has no idea where they are, and decides to himself whilst he follows to keep his eyes on her and stay alert. He never knows, the woman is a newcomer and not be trusted even if she is helping Will with Hannibal. What if she tries to do the same to Will when he least expects it? His life is already messed up.

But the doctor does not have that in mind. When they finally arrive at the mansion-sized home in the quiet street Bedelia does not need to warn Will to lower his volume. Silent, the pair transport Hannibal into a room revamped specifically for this sort of unorthodox treatment (Bedelia always knew she would try it on Hannibal first) then Bedelia goes to find some suitable nightwear for the blond. Will, as instructed, carefully undresses the comatose man down to his underwear. He is precise and delicate, caring not that the heavily drugged male will not stur for hours.

Bedelia returns with a set of pyjamas in hand. Her and Will dress Hannibal quickly, using the two pairs of hands to easily manoeuver the dead weight beneath them. It takes a matter of minutes for Hannibal to be dressed and set in a bed resembling a cot; wooden frame with raised sides that are held up by bars. The mattress is soft and comforting offering to reflect body temperature or deflect when necessary. Hannibal does not move an inch, at least not independently.

The two are proud of the achievement, retreating from the room with only a dim nightlight guiding the way. Will leaves the door ajar so if Lecter does rouse early they can hear his distress. Bedelia invites him downstairs, asking if he will stay the night for support. Will, although reluctant, does not decline due t the pure fact that he wants to see Hannibal and let him know he is there for him. He also wants to witness the progress (the slight, if none at all) fro this particular method of 'rehabilitation' - Graham understandably hasn't given this occurrence a name yet - as well as confronting the doctor about their future.

“So, how is this going to work?” Will blurts, glass of wine in hand. He has grown tipsy, Bedelia, though not a lightweight, not too far from drunkenness herself.

“I was hoping we could form an arrangement of sorts, so we'd both be able to track Hannibal's welfare in our own time.” Bedelia replies.

“Mmm, well how about you keep him here during the drug process, and when he has grown accustomed to the lifestyle he can alternate between accommodations?” the suggestion strikes excitement in the psychiatrist, so she enthusiastically nods.

“That would be appreciated. Do tell me you'll visit daily? I cannot care for him all hours; not around my hectic work schedule.” Bedelia protests - Will shakes his head.

“I will not neglect this shared decision. I shall be here morning and evening, and when I finish classes I shall need to freshen up and feed my pack before I return. Every opportunity to visit shall be taken gratefully.” Will promises, with an affirming nod to end.

“Excellent. I shall copy a print of my working hours to send to you, and you should do the same. I'm afraid it's a nine-to-five shift for me; most days at least.” the blonde sighs, taking a hearty swig of her drink. Will repeats her exasperation, relating to her exhaustion.

“Me too, what with Jack on my case. Is Hannibal on sick leave?” Will inquires. Bedelia hesitates (she had not thought about how Hannibal would suddenly excuse himself from work entirely for such a long period of time) but eventually nods.

“That seems suitable. Unless you prefer for him to leave for the family business approach?” Bedelia offers.

“Do they track your personal life? As in relations?” Will adds. He wants to be thorough; being caught would not end well for either one of the trio. Bedelia shakes her head.

“They only require that field of information at the very beginning of psychiatry, just in case the surname holds a bad reputation,” she informs.

Will grins. “The latter it is.”

“Very well.” and with a mirrored smile, that conversation ends.

“Shall I dare to mention the subject of our roles? Like, what we shall do, names and who we are to Hannibal?”

“Of course. I have planned it all in advance, so I want you to just listen and intervene at the end. You are named father, papa, daddy, whichever you prefer. My name shall mother in Lithuanian;  know that is his origin from past records.

“We as a collective are his parents. He shall relate to us with that status and rely on our bond to ensure his is in a safe, happy family. That does not mean we embark on an actual relationship, only to Hannibal will we be together. For the first month, Hannibal will be on supervised drugs that keep him conscious, but immobile. He will be completely aware of our actions and will also retain memories from the experience; I recommend using a softer tone and gentle, persuasive language so he remembers you speaking to him right from the start. If there is an improvement, the dosage will be decreased, and that shall continue until Hannibal is ready to be completely weaned from the drugs.” Bedelia concludes. Will is intrigued.

“Alright, that sounds like an excellent plan. But what do we do if he improves greatly and he needs not to use the drugs sooner? What happens after that?” he questions, earning a grin.

“That's the fun part. He will associate us as his carers and will be mostly if not fully dependent on us as his role models. So if he does manage to accept his new life then we will treat him as a toddler, no more than a five year old child. We can then recognise behavioural indications of his age, and raise him from then on.

“There is no opt out part, so unfortunately we shall have to face the protests and reluctance, maybe even full-on resistance until he settles int this strange lifestyle. We have to acknowledge how much of a change this is for him; Hannibal will certainly struggle because he is so independent and relishes in control. We are taking the two away from him, breaking his walls and removing his armour. Under the drugs, we can influence him with encouragement until he realises this all for his benefit, and that it isn't embarrassing nor a punishment.” that concludes their plan.

By the time everything has been explained, it is almost half-twelve. Will offers to care for Hannibal during the morning period whilst Bedelia works, then on her lunch break he shall head to the hall and give two hour-and-a-half lessons before he returns. Bedelia has another few sessions before they can spend their first night as a family. They says their farewells with Will settled in a spare room, and both sleep peacefully.


	5. Chapter 5

Hectic. The morning is hectic. Well, at least for Will.

It began calm - Bedelia awoke and checked on the sleeping Hannibal before she started her daily morning routine. Will then joined her at the breakfast bar half an hour later, sipping coffee and bidding Bedelia goodbye. She lingers, eyes on her wrist watch before she concludes that she shall stay until their 'baby' wakes up (she has been waiting to use that term for so long). Luckily, Hannibal woke up early enough that Bedelia wouldn't be majorly late (though a patient may be in the waiting room when she arrives), but he was not a happy bunny.

He alerts the two with a soft groan, and when they go to see him he is rolling onto his side. He rubs his eyes with fisted hands then opens them, blinking away the blurriness until he realises that wait, this isn't his house, who's house is this? Bedelia injects him with more immobiliser, kisses him on the head then leaves. Will smiles with gentle eyes and pushes away the falling hair on Hannibal's forehead. The drowsy man stares up at him, discombobulated and displeased.

Will notices that, even under the drugs, Hannibal manages to have a strong grip on the bars of the bed. Then he remembers that Bedelia told him minimal dosage makes the person weak, but not completely paralysed. So. She must have given him a small injection. Hannibal whines quietly, but Will is sure he doesn't know he did that because the man is in a dream world.

Graham searches the room, pulling out a pair of cotton mittens with matching thick socks. Turning to face the blond, he is surprised to see that the man does not even acknowledge his presence and instead opts for staring up and behind him with a tilted head at the room. Will chuckles, but with no reaction he waves it off and finds some extremely soft clothes (a plain shirt, jumper and long pants) for Hannibal to wear.

 As the therapist clearly refuses to talk, Will grabs a pull-up. Hannibal probably wouldn't realise he'd wet himself because of the lack of control over his bladder, and as he isn't wanting to verbally communicate, Will isn't going to risk it. He returns to the replica of a cot and unlocks the latch then pushes the front side so the bars lower to give access. Hannibal finally looks over, eyes dark and cold like ice.

Will resists a shiver and holds eye contact, his eyes glittering and warm in contrast. Hannibal attempts to sneer (attempt being the key word) but all he manages is a pout that Will chuckles at. He moves the falling hair again and gets to work. With the man unwillingly compliant, the brunet easily slides off the pyjamas. He starts at the top, slipping the shirt and jumper over Hannibal's head with minimal effort. To give the poor man some dignity, Will is rapid in changing the underwear; he receives a whine of protest.

When the trauma is over Will profusely praises the other, but does not touch him. The tired blond is agitated, and Will does not want to make the morning any harder than it has to be. So as Graham dumps the used pyjamas in a hamper, Hannibal watches intensely, intending to manipulate the man into letting him go. Though to no avail, Will is strong and ignores the look (knowing full well what Hannibal is doing) and wraps the cotton mittens tightly over the doctor's calloused hands. Another protestant whine.

Will ensures that Hannibal is practically useless, checking that he cannot get himself out of the cot without assistance. And when that is done, Graham heads to the kitchen to retrieve a bowl of something Will cannot identify but trusts Bedelia's insistence that it is not poisonous (she would never be able to live with herself if she was the cause of his death). Upon arrival at the bedroom, Hannibal stills after muttering and forcing himself to sit up.

Lecter collapses in exhaustion, the exertion from straining against the drugs taking its toll on him. Besides, he's hungry too. Will enters with a smile, graceful yet calculated steps blasting an aura of calm and gentleness in the atmosphere. Hannibal eyes the brunet, unsure as to why he is here. Does Will know about his hobby? Oh my, that would ruin everything! His perfect plan would be destroyed!

But Will does not blame, or curse or shout. Instead he settles beside the cot on a comfy looking rocking chair, and sets the bowl aside. Then he carefully lifts Hannibal onto his lap - to which the man emits a surprised yelp - and rests the blond's head against his shoulder. Hannibal's legs dangle over the side of the chair, but neither seem to care and it obviously isn't uncomfortable for him. Will thanks the man for his compliance.

“Good boy. Are you alright?” Will asks, his tone sickly sweet. Hannibal shudders involuntarily.

“Apart from being held against my will and drugged to obey, yes.” he replies, voice laced with venom.

Will smiles, but it isn't menacing. “I'm sorry. This must be awfully confusing but you will know exactly what it going on in a few hours. Does that sound okay?”

“Can I ask a question?” Hannibal tilts his head back to stare up at the blue-eyed man.

“Of course honey,” brown eyes flash with something unrecognisable. Honey?

“Is this...arrangement temporary?” hope fills up in the man, until Will shakes his head with a sad smile. The hope shatters like glass.

“I'm afraid not. But I know once you are comfortable this will be enjoyable.” Will promises, leaning to kiss the man on the forehead.

“I am wary to take your word on that.” he frowns.

“Hush now. Eat your breakfast.” Will shushes, lifting a spoon of homemade oatmeal up.

Hannibal sighs, but opens his mouth and repeats the feeding process so he can just get it over with. The food tastes wonderful, and the smell is amazing. It also fills Hannibal up, so it isn't all bad, really. Will praises his progress every so often and when they are done he removes the bowl with spoon inside away. Instead of locking Lecter in his cot again (like Hannibal thought he would) Will relaxes, allowing Hannibal to shuffle until he is comfortable. They sit together, rocking back-forth back-forth.

Will strokes Hannibal's arm and hair, observing the world outside of the window. Hannibal watches too, but after struggling he gives up on trying to identify the location. Eyelids droop with a full belly and warm clothes and comforting rocking. He cannot help it, when Will feels him rest more weight on his torso he checks to see Hannibal fast asleep. Cooing, the brunet shifts and with expert control manages to place Hannibal back in bed.

He tucks him in and places the bars up again - then leaves the room with dishes and a grin. Their plan is working.

 

The next time Hannibal rouses, Will is gone. Suddenly everything is lonely and quiet intimidating (Hannibal would die if someone walked in and saw him now). Lecter is silent, listening closely for any sounds; like the footsteps that are getting closer. Wait. Hannibal whines, shuffling as if to hide himself but failing to without free hands. He emanates a frustrated growl, eyes feral and screaming danger.

What he doesn't expect is for Bedelia to calmly stroll in, not at all phased by the sight in front of her. In fact, she smiles with eyes that are as gentle as Will's were. What have they planned? Her elegance is distracting; and Bedelia uses that to plunge the immobilising serum into the drowsy man's bicep. He groans.

Brown eyes glint with red, they hold anger, frustration and ice but no danger. Hannibal can do nothing in his state. Despite knowing this, Du Maurier takes ten minutes for the serum to properly kick in before she even attempts removing the man. She would rather not be attacked today, thank you very much. What surprises Lecter is her sheer strength; she easily hauls him from the cot (he is quite tall) and onto her lap.

 When they are both settled, Bedelia slips a finger down the back of Hannibal's pants. She smiles, picking the blond up and setting him down on a sturdy table, that looks more primitive than it is. In contrast to Will, the psychiatrist takes her time changing the man's lower clothing, patiently providing care and comfort. Though she relishes in his embarrassment, his tainted cheeks and quiet protests (he has not yet pleaded). The entire process of changing Hannibal's wet pull-up lasts for five minutes as Bedelia thoroughly cleans the blond.

Once they have jumped that hurdle, Bedelia decides it is feeding time. She places Hannibal in his cot again to retrieve his lunch from the kitchen. Upon return the man is found curled up, seemingly the remainder of his strength put into the position. Beauty and youth strike the tired male, with free hair and soft clothes, mixed in with the childish décor; it is a perfect harmony in Bedelia's eyes.

The cot bars lower but Bedelia does not remove Hannibal from where he is and instead feeds him as he is. The spoon holds a beige mixture of something Hannibal can't identify, but he doesn't want to be difficult and he is ever so hungry, so he eagerly (well, as eager as a snail) opens his mouth wide enough for the spoon to enter. Bedelia holds eye contact whilst he swallows the soft food, it isn't quite soup but he has no need to chew it. And he watches back, trying so hard to see behind the motherly look she possess but failing miserably.

The feeding ordeal is over soon enough, leaving the frustrated blond on the woman's rocking lap. They sway gently in a soothing motion as Bedelia hums softly. Hannibal finally relaxes, resting his heavy head on her petite shoulder. Stunning silky blouses that Hannibal likes have always seemed soft to touch - and they are. His fingers gather a portion of the material to sweep the pad of his thumb across it. A period of time is dedicated to rocking; Bedelia whispering endearing words in Hannibal's ear as he strokes her comforting blouse.

Someone entering the house a while later is what startles Hannibal. Bedelia reassures him that it is only daddy (but who the hell is daddy?) and there is nothing to fret over. Hannibal relentlessly whines, twisting his body with as much effort as he can conjure before the woman can overpower him. Will sneaks in - unbeknownst to Lecter - and waits for him to settle before he announces his presence.

“Hey there buddy! Have you been good for mummy?” he greets, a Cheshire cat grin plastered on his fatigued face. Hannibal eyes him warily, unsure how to react.

“Le' me goo! Please, or t-they'll fi-find me!” Hannibal slurs, frowning at the weak tone. Will shakes his head and advances closer.

He grins. “Don't be such a silly billy Hanni! You're our baby,” he explains.

“And we love you very much, so nobody can take you away from us.” Bedelia adds.

“Exactly. Which means we'll protect you from the big bad world and you won't have to worry about aaaanything!” the brunet emphasises. Hannibal does his best to make the pout adorning his face look as intimidating as possible. It does not work.

“Why, why are y-you doing-g thisss?” Hannibal struggles.

Bedelia kisses the crown of his head. “Because we love you and we are doing this for your benefit, baby.” Will nods.

“That's right. We know how sick you are honey, so we're shall care for you. It's okay; now how about we go downstairs?” Bedelia takes her cue and stands, passing the limp body over to Will.

“That sounds like a great idea!” They march towards the stairs. Though Hannibal is grumpy and throws a tantrum (he doesn't even know he is; it's a side effect from the drugs), wriggling with the scarce energy he has. Will cluthes him tighter, wrapping the dangling legs around his hips and draping the covered arms around his shoulders. He presses Hannibal's face into his neck and pins him there; calming and providing comfort for the distressed baby.

“Noo, le' go!” the blond muffles, losing the battle as Bedelia tuts with a click of her tongue.

“Hush now.” she scolds lightly, opening the living room door for Will.

He thanks her and the enter, Hannibal giving up his fight. Graham praises his compliance in a babyish tone and bounces the vulnerable man all the way to the couch. Bedelia whisks Hannibal's dishes to the kitchen before returning empty handed with a smile. Will sits down and lays Hannibal's head over his lap. Rich carpeting lines the floor, immaculate and creamy. The blonde woman joins them, lifting Hannibal's legs so they rest on her lap.

The 'parents' converse, ignoring their baby's presence deliberately as they discuss the day. Will takes to idly stroking the soft pieces of fallen hair on Hannibal's head, weaving the golden locks in between his fingers whilst Bedelia runs her nails over his clothed calf with little pressure. That is all it takes for the man to snooze, nuzzling Will's thigh in instinctive affection. Will smiles, glancing down at the little as Bedelia mirrors. They know this is going to be a beautiful family.


	6. Chapter 6

Hannibal wakes up back in his cot. The blankets around him are weighty and warm, too warm and his clothes are itchy and sweaty and it isn't nice. He whines (not knowing so) and wriggles, resorting to growling lowly at his covered hands. His constant complaints rouse Bedelia so she enters his room. She finds him awake, completely self-aware and energised. His lean body writhes under the masses of blankets she left for him to sweat under, so she could clean him up and imply dependency.

Twinkling maroon eyes stare up at blue ones, glassy and wide. The blue ones sparkle with adoration whereas the maroon ones glitter with unshed tears. Another annoying side effect of the drugs (at least for Hannibal) is that the user becomes much more emotional than before, sensitive to most things. Crying is a common result. Bedelia coos, stretching her arm to cup Lecter's chiselled cheek and shush his whines.

It works; Bedelia is able to lift Hannibal out of the warm cot and onto a floor mat. The design and material is similar to that of a portable changing mat, although the therapist shall use it to clean Hannibal on until she can fully trust him. Sized up for an adult, the mat embraces the sweaty man as the sides raise to contain water. Lecter is laid down on his back, facing the ceiling and refusing to move his eyes away from the intricate white above.

Bedelia smiles, gathering up her supply of water, cup and soap (it is baby stuff and also counts as shampoo). When that is done, she kneels beside her baby and undresses him, earning a grateful sigh of relief at the cool air. Hannibal stretches when he is bared, puffing air from his cheeks and raising his arms. He does finally gaze at her soft face, and so she deliberately ignores him so he can have a good stare. Building trust is the first step, and she doesn't want him to feel patronised as she tugs a cloth out of the pile of towels and flannels alike to wet.

The lukewarm water soothes the burning skin as Bedelia fills the cup with some water from the ceramic bowl beside her. Hannibal sighs again, content enough to close his teary eyes and relax his tight muscles as the water cascades over his torso. She then uses the cloth to gently lather the soap over him before moving onto his limbs. Clean, she washes away the soap and drains the water out of the sided mat. It collects in a small removable tray that she will rid of later, but for now she concentrates solely on the task at hand.

After the body has been washed and rinsed, Bedelia continues onto Hannibal's face. This time, she uses a fluffy flannel to dab the contours of skin clean, wiping away sweat and apparent tears. The careful procedure is finished without any incidents (thankfully) and Bedelia manages to clear the soapy suds off Hannibal's face with scarce fuss. Her delicate hands rub shampoo deeply into Lecter's scalp and her fingernails gently apply pressure for stimulation. Hannibal relaxes further, allowing Bedelia to do her thing because he isn't getting out of this anytime soon (that has been made clear enough) and he wants to preserve the last portion of dignity he has remaining - throwing a tantrum or creating a fuss would not benefit.

His pliant behaviour earns great praise, which he enjoys immensely (being pretentious and all), as the shampoo that has no significant scent is drained. Bedelia removes the tray and discards of the soapy water in the sink through the en suite before returning to her shivering boy. He clutches his arms and grits his teeth to prevent a chatter, but his carer quickly sits him up and wraps a baby-soft towel around his shoulders. It drapes to mid thigh and warms the bite of cold immediately.

Now that the bath is over, Bedelia can inject the immobiliser so his dead weight can be supported by the bed and not her frail arms. His uncoiled muscles easily accept the drug and she doesn't even have to rub the limb to circulate it. No less than two minutes later Hannibal grows heavy and dependent, his jaw goes slack and his eyelids droop. The groan is slow and forced; it is clearly a struggle to emit the sound of annoyance. He is laid on the cot and encased by the bars.

Bedelia smiles then bundles the used clothes and towels, flannels and cloths away. It is an easy process that takes her all of five minutes to do and when she returns upon Hannibal's room he is once again curled up with his face lodged between the bars of the cot. Bedelia laughs lightly, bending to look into Hannibal's eyes.

“Are you comfy there honey?” Bedelia asks, a Cheshire cat grin gracing her lips.

“Mmm, stop.” he mumbles.

“I'll take that as a yes. Now eat your food.” she orders, lowering the bars to scoop a dollop of mushy substance onto the spoon.

Hannibal shakes his head as best he can and avoids the ugly slush. He turns his face away and raises his heavy hands up to protect his mouth. Bedelia sighs, singlehandedly removing the appendages to instantly force the plastic coloured spoon into Hannibal's mouth. He grimaces but she holds his wrists together with one hand and covers his mouth (to prevent him from spitting it out) with the other. Eventually, the blond gives in and swallows the unknown substance, though he repeats his reluctance several more times until Bedelia's insistence submits him. Du Maurier praises his calm behaviour and soon enough feeding time is over.

Bedelia returns, but lingers only to kiss the man on the forehead and gather covers around the lying torso. After that, her heels click up to the front door, which opens and shuts. Hannibal listens carefully for any noise other than silence (he isn't able to do much apart from that) for the most of five minutes; it feels much longer than that however. He hears the front door go again, but this time the footsteps are heavy without any clicks. They ascend the stairs and head straight for Hannibal, but the blond does not fret.

Will enters, grinning at the adorable man as he opens the door wider to walk further inside. Hannibal growls, low and warning but barely a threat. They both know Hannibal will not do anything - he can't anyway. Graham removes his shoes and coat, dumping them away where they won't cause issues. He then advances towards his child and lowers the cot bars to pluck the limp body out. Hannibal can only whine in protest as his limbs are wrapped around the slender frame of Will's torso as the man's strong arms wrap around his body.

Will carries Hannibal downstairs, ensuring both of their safety as he trusts the therapist to remain on the couch. The brunet then heads back to the little's room to grab his coat and shoes so he can put them away. Quickly, Will manages to do so before Hannibal can try anything (which he doesn't). A sharp needle is filled with more serum than before, rendering the blond man completely dependent on someone else. Bedelia suggested that Will should offer his care and support thoroughly, by placing Hannibal in a vulnerable position without judgement.

So that is exactly what the brunet does. He lies Hannibal on his stomach, head resting in Will's lap as the blue-eyed male gently coaxes Lecter's thumb into his mouth. Hannibal cannot suck the appendage under the heavy influence of the drug, so his hand loosely hangs from his mouth (though Will decides it still looks incredibly cute either way). Will strokes the soft wisps of golden hair, awed by its texture. When gelled it looks so rough and gives the man such an old complexion in comparison to when it is simply left alone. In addition, it is still slightly damp from being washed prior to Will's return.

The soothing sensation of Will's thick fingers in his hair and the effect of the drug lulls Hannibal into a dreamless sleep. Will relaxes, settling down with a book he left nearby to read whilst his baby naps. He alerts Bedelia that he is with Hannibal, with no answer; he knows she may be driving or in a session. Instead, he abandons his phone and sighs contently, happy to be doing nothing for once. He relishes in the peace, yet prepares for the uproar later when Lecter wakes. The man will not be pleased.


	7. Chapter 7

Will wakes Hannibal an hour later with a shake of the shoulders. “Hannibal, babe, wake up. Look who's here!” Will murmurs in the other's ear.

“Hanni, it's mama honey.” Bedelia says. Hannibal opens his eyes into slits. He tries to rub his face, pulling his hand away from his drool-covered mouth.

“Mama?” Lecter echoes, not entirely sure what is happening in his drowsy state. Bedelia grins. Will too, smiles.

“That's right. And that is tēvelis.” she praises, pointing to Will.

Hannibal looks up at the smiling man with furrowed eyebrows. “Daddy?”

“Yeah honey, I'm daddy. Are you hungry?” Hannibal groans as he is helped to sit up. He leans against the back of the couch, cushioned from all sides as Will stands.

Hannibal hesitantly nods, wary of Bedelia's glinting eyes; even when drugged to the eyeballs he can read body language. Will stretches before entering the kitchen, disappearing from Hannibal's view as Bedelia follows, then reappears holding a bottle. Lecter groans albeit it sounds more like a slur when he realises the complaints will make no difference. Bedelia takes the bottle as Will checks Hannibal; he carries him upstairs immediately after.

Bedelia sits as elegant as ever, the picture of perfection as she waits for her men. They arrive only a few minutes later, one very displeased as the other rolls his eyes. A giggle escapes the psychiatrist's red lips as she shifts to create room for the two on the cream couch. Hannibal leans against Will with his lanky legs draped over the woman's lap. She pushes the bottle nib into his mouth and squeezes the plastic so he is forced to drink.

The room falls quiet save for the low suckling sounds from the doctor, and it is peaceful and certainly not awkward. Will eventually picks up the domestic side of the family life, beginning by asking Bedelia about her day. They discuss their work experiences as Hannibal finishes the bottle, but they ignore him whilst Will grips the plastic cylinder so it stays firmly in Lecter's mouth. Hannibal is caressed, but that is the most acknowledgment he earns as he tries to build up enough energy to wriggle away.

Will absently wraps his strong arms around Hannibal's middle, grappling the guy so he cannot move any more than an inch. Hannibal lolls his head back; it feels nice having his heavy skull supported. Will's shoulder offers great comfort and he knows now there is no point in attempting to escape. Bedelia shoots a smile his way, then sends a gleeful look towards her partner in crime (literally) at the sign of progress. Despite this, the conversation continues, even after Hannibal has dozed off.

 

It is early in the morning when Hannibal finds himself waking in his cot. He is so frustrated - why does he keep falling asleep so often? It must be down to the drugs. His body still refuses to cooperate with his screaming mind, although he doesn't feel uncomfortable. He ponders about the time and where he is and why he is here; and how long is it going to be before either of the others cracks and he has a chance to escape? It has to happen at some point, especially since Will is tied into the plan (something is bound to go wrong when that damned man is involved).

Hannibal tiredly stares up at the ceiling, willing the fatigue to go away so he can concentrate for more than sixty seconds. His pleas fall on deaf ears albeit, as the darkness of his mind and the corners of his room form an alliance and drag him down into the rabbit hole of sleep. Bedelia, who lingers in the doorway, smiles at the sight of her darling son, resting pliantly in the soft blue sheets. He does not stir when she strokes his hair and kisses his forehead, but she knows he is aware of her presence; he simply chooses to feign sleep.

Will is nowhere to be seen, but it does not bother Hannibal. He actually doesn't care which of them is there when he wakes, as long as they aren't too irritable he can cope. That isn't the case today, however. Bedelia seems to be in quite a good mood, and decides that her baby should go outside and sit in the fresh air. She dresses him on the changing mat for the day - building up his layers with a white vest concealed by a long sleeved top. The pants that match are made from a similar material to Bedelia's blouses - just like the ones Hannibal enjoys feeling.

And indeed he does find the thought endearing. His weighty hands find purchase on the thigh pocket of the black pants, and he grips them as tightly as possible as a form of distraction. It gives him something to fidget with whilst the therapist fusses over his hair. The blond locks are long enough to be arranged into bangs, and that is exactly how Bedelia sets them. Wispy gold cascades into Hannibal's eyes, but he manages to blink them away and they are only a fraction annoying.

After that, Bedelia takes her overgrown baby to the kitchen and feeds him there before they venture into the barren back garden. It glows with bold, bright colours, ranging from crimson reds to lilacs and green and any colour possible. Magnificent. The place is far from unkempt, and the shed filled to the brim with outdoorsy items: a lawnmower, a leaf blower, spades and rakes and brushes and- there are many things in that shed. The therapist must be proud.

Decking groans subtly under the weight, and Hannibal stares up at the beautiful sky as he inhales the scents and fresh air. His skin illuminates under the rays - Bedelia thinks he would receive a great tan if he wasn't wearing sleeves, but that's for another sunny day. He relaxes into the wicker whilst his carer lounges opposite him, listening to nature in contrast to bustling cars and rowdy teenagers. She would prefer if Lecter was not exposed to that. It may give him false hope.

The morning ends in bliss, but the afternoon begins with clatter. Hannibal doesn't want to be difficult, honestly, but he really doesn't want to go out in public either. He doesn't care if the place is secluded and nobody minds and there is even a family nearby who shares the same... lifestyle. It is too early for him to lose such dignity without provoking a tantrum. Bedelia does not stand for it; she knows that everybody in the estate is aware that something is going on in her house, but luckily for her they don't care and are not so rude to investigate themselves.

It isn't like this is something odd or unusual, there is more than just one family living with a fully-grown regressed person. This place crawls with them; it could be stretched so far to be named a community! But Hannibal has no idea, and she isn't going to tell him without him seeing first. So she patiently bears with the angry struggles, pinning down the restless man with Velcro ties to the bars of the cot by each wrist or ankle then whispering endearments in his ear. At first, Lecter growls and writhes and kicks and seethes. But once restrained, he simply leans up for his mama and whimpers. By the time he is embraced in a hug and kissed on each contour of his face, the man is a crying mess.

Hannibal has no reason to weep but instinctively he just cries because he is so helpless. Bedelia soothes his tears, singing a lullaby's tune and rocking Hannibal. The sobbing relents, though smaller drops race down Lecter's cheeks in frustration - why can't he fight back? His suffering is met with patience; despite Bedelia wanting her child to release his pent-up emotions she does not want him to go overboard and mentally exhaust himself. They have a long day ahead of them.

 

An hour after the miniature incident, Hannibal is drugged to high heavens and strapped into a secure pram. The large structure is fully cushioned, designed with cartoon animals and colourful bars. Hannibal watches the scenery change with glossy eyes, unsure where he is, but Bedelia is here to keep him safe, she promised. Barren streets provide comfort, albeit Lecter is difficult to decipher under the warmth and security of his armour. He snuggles under the wool and draws the material up to the bridge of his nose - only his clouded maroon eyes show.

Bedelia struts proudly, her chin raised and framed by curled golden locks. She effortlessly slings the emergency bag she keeps from her shoulder into the contained bottom of the pram, finding her shoulder aches some from the weight. Her struggles are undetectable underneath hooded eyelids, as the pram glides along the path in the direction of town. A couple linked on the opposing side of the road glance at the others, but from their positions they only see a large pram and a hidden face.

Hannibal's heartbeat picks up every time he spots people though nobody bothers to pay attention (this community is so used to seeing age play) to them. In fact, the only form of socialising Hannibal and his mama receive is when she buys whatever the hell she needs - he doesn't really focus over fear of being recognised - or when a middle-aged man stops Bedelia.

“Bedelia, hi! Do you remember me?” the ginger exclaims. The woman pauses, before realisation hits home.

“I do. You're Jeffery, right? From the-” she responds. The man's eyes light up.

Jeff finishes for her. “Grocers, yes. It has been a while, how are you getting on?” his eyes flicker to the pram.

“Excellent. You?” she smiles politely, less so than the grin of Jeff's smug face.

“Oh, I am doing great. The business is striving, surprisingly.” Bedelia nods with parted lips, watching Jeff as he stares at the contained man in the pram.

“I guess so because of the quality and price, if I recall rightly.” Hannibal avoids the intense eyes on his, choosing to stare at the stranger's feet. He hesitantly wipes the drool on his bottom lip, ensuring that he does not touch the dummy gag he is currently sporting, all the while concealed beneath the thick blanket.

Bedelia smiles, “Thank you, that is greatly appreciated. I'm sorry, but I believe I have never met this little fellow before,” Jeff tilts his head, observing the peeking eyes.

“No, you have not. This is Hannibal; say hi to Jeffery baby.” Hannibal glares up, nonetheless raising a mitten-clad hand to wave.

“Hello, Hannibal. Are you being a good boy for your mummy?” Jeff coddles, using a childish, slightly higher-pitched tone on the dangerous man. Hannibal shifts in discomfort.

Lecter's carer senses his unease, and afraid to lose his trust (it would be game over if she did), she wraps up the chat. “He is. Unfortunately, we must get on. We have a busy itinerary.” Hannibal shoots her a grateful look.

“Ah, well it was great to see you Bedelia,” Jeff crouches down so he can be eye-level with the baby. “and it was a pleasure meeting you Hannibal! Have a nice day.” Hannibal reluctantly waves again; the look from Bedelia is rather threatening. She too bids her farewells, and pushes the pram.

The lurch startles Hannibal at first, but eventually the motion settles him into a light snooze. Bedelia makes quick time in gathering what she needs from the bustling market, avoiding the bunches of queuing customers at popular stalls. Instead, she visits only three more stalls, wasting no time in talking to the stall managers. Hannibal stirs in his sleep, making a small whimpering noise that Bedelia shushes immediately. He wakes, briefly, with wet eyes and a squirm.

The blonde therapist heads towards a quiet area, that thankfully is completely deserted. Hannibal whimpers again, shuffling under the restraints and flexing his bound hands. Bedelia bends, removing the blanket and slinging it over her arm. She wordlessly slips two fingers into the band of Hannibal's pants to confirm her theory. A pearly smile graces her lips whilst she enthusiastically praises her dear boy. After she promises to get home fast, Hannibal relaxes as best as he can, willing the soggy feeling between his legs to vanish, or at least not go cold.

It takes the pair ten minutes to arrive home, and by then Hannibal is getting desperate. He bounces lightly, jiggling the pram and making it a challenge for Bedelia to control. She advises him to cease so she can help him faster, but his determination to be cleaned proves much too strong for him to calm down. The urge to urinate returns, although Hannibal knows he has just wet during his nap. Influential drugs taunt Lecter, mocking his weak muscles and refusing to refrain from preventing his movement.

Finally, the two are upstairs and Hannibal is naked below the waist. He wriggles and writhes, whining without words for Bedelia to change him. She doesn't bother trying to quieten him - that plan would fail before it began. Instead, she grabs the nearest nappy and bottles of cream then returns to the changing mat where Hannibal lies. He smiles subtly at the sight of fresh clothing. His long legs kick happily, closely similar to the way a content child's would. Bedelia grins and lowers herself to the floor, supporting her weight on one knee.

She wipes the damp area then sprinkles an extensive amount of talcum powder and rubs plenty of nappy rash cream where necessary. To end, she tapes him up with a large nappy that parts his thighs a little. He sighs in relief and stretches his toes, dribbling around the wide dummy gag. Bedelia chuckles and lifts Hannibal by his armpits onto the rocking chair. She pushes the edge to set it off, then leaves to gather up her mess and to discard the used nappy. Colourful pants worn previously are hung up as well as the layered coat Hannibal wore.

His heavy head lolls against the back of the rocking chair, and he slumps in the frame, legs dangling over the edge. Bedelia returns only when the babyish room is tidy and there is nothing on the floor. Her crimson heels thump as they contact the carpet, but she slips them off gracefully and holds them between two fingers. The rocking chair moves faster, but it doesn't throw Hannibal off and he grows fatigued once more. When Bedelia has put away her shoes downstairs, her baby is fast asleep. A grin tugs at her lips; stage two of their plan can begin as Hannibal has proved he can be trusted alone for a short period of time.

Bedelia cannot wait to inform Will on the progress (and how they need to reward Lecter for behaving so well). 


	8. Chapter 8

Two weeks into Hannibal's new life, the progress continues. Hannibal thrives under the love and attention - so far he has behaved exceptionally well (minus the understandable mishaps). Sometimes though, it isn't just Lecter's day. And today happens to be one of those days.

He wakes, with Will at his side. It is the weekend, and thankfully Jack has given the brunet time off until Tuesday. He has planned to spend the whole time bonding with his baby boy. Unfortunately, the man is cranky and hot and it's too early but he's hungry and thirsty though he doesn't want anyone to touch him and it's just a very bad day. Will picks up on the agitation almost straight away, and although he really doesn't want to have to deal with a grumpy bum so early in the morning (hey, half ten _is_ early for people who aren't fans of mornings!) but Bedelia warned him about being firm.

Hannibal groans, turning away from his papa to stuff his damp face into the bear-patterned pillow. Will chuckles, placing his right hand on Lecter's shoulder. Hannibal attempts to shrug it off, feeling agitated - he just wants to be left alone for a little while is all. Why can't his daddy understand that? Graham sighs when he earns no reaction to his gentle encouragement, and decides he needs to simply take action.

The brunet rolls his baby onto his back, then by the armpits (which are rather sweaty) he picks the blond up and sets him on the bathing mat. He raises the sides to contain the water, checks the removable collecting tray before hesitantly leaving to gather what he needs. Hannibal rests, damp back pressed against the stuffy, fleecy night shirt he wears - he whines in frustration because he cannot feel the cool plastic. Eventually though, Hannibal gains the desired relief as he is undressed at a rapid pace and rendered bare. Will slows down, however, resorting to careful touches as he pours cups of water over Hannibal's face and body.

Cool water battles hot sweat, winning in turn and emitting contented exhales from the man it defends. Will smiles, squirting the soap that is tinged with a faded green colour onto his hands before lathering it over Hannibal. The bathing process seems to last for ages (at least for Lecter) though finally Graham reaches Hannibal's hair. The ashen pieces grow thick in the froth, and Will attempts to amuse the cranky man by styling it in crazy styles. Hannibal giggles at the sensation - yes, _giggles!_

Soon enough, the two are falling into individual laughing fits, Hannibal feeling relaxed and actually happy. In this moment, he does not feel degraded or judged, and instead loved. Will laughs because he is proud, so _so_ glad that he can enjoy spending time with the man without threats or anger or manipulation. He wants their relationship to remain like this, were there are no drugs and they rely on trust and love, just as much as Hannibal depends on his and Bedelia's care. Sadly, Will knows they cannot spend an entire day bathing, and after washing away the suds he deems the water has gone cold enough for Hannibal to be exposed to a chill.

A whine of protest escapes Hannibal as he is sat up and swamped in a towel. Will does not use any towel, however, but one made to mimic a duck. It is bright yellow, with an attached hood that is inked with an adorable face with a three dimensional beak. The poncho shaped, gigantic flannel emits another giggle from Hannibal - _what a silly towel!_ Will lifts the hood over Hannibal's wet hair and leaves it to soak the excess water whilst he rubs his dripping body underneath the duck towel.

Gradually, Hannibal fully dries off, but his hair is still quite wet, so Graham decides to take him to Bedelia's bedroom. He plonks the duck on a stool facing a mirror, and whilst he searches for a hairdryer he laughs at the tiny giggles he hears coming from the towel. At last! Will exclaims a small 'ha ha' when he discovers a silver, sleek and probably expensive hairdryer. He reminds himself to be careful as he plugs it in beside Hannibal.

Lecter sits patiently, grateful to be sitting on his own with nothing to hold him. The immobiliser still pumps through his system, but not as greatly. Hannibal knows that Will is aware of this and is simply trusting Hannibal not to try anything, and he won't. It wouldn't get him anywhere. So he sits and waits as the yellow hood is removed and replaced with a rough brush that prickles his scalp but tackles the nasty tats. Will explains that the knots will only deteriorate if they are not rid of first, though Hannibal already knows that, he stays silent.

“You're a good boy, Hannibal.” Will whispers, kissing the other's temple sweetly. Any other sound after that is drowned out by the whirring.

Warm air blasts Hannibal, aimed at the wild strands that go from dark to ashen once more. The blaring whoosh ends, and the clumps of blond float back to their roots. Will tidies away the hairdryer then repeats the brushing before he helps Hannibal off the stool. Lecter clutches fistfuls of Will's shirt to balance himself on shaky legs, but even with the minimal dose of drugs washing his veins, he cannot find enough strength to remain upright. He leans against the warm wall in front of him, feeling the frame surround him as his feet do not touch the floor any longer.

Will carries him downstairs and into the kitchen, just successfully filling a bottle singlehandedly with milk above room temperature. He hands it over to Hannibal, but the man simply holds it as they venture to the couch. It takes encouragement and a little force for Hannibal to finally drink the liquid, but they get there eventually. Will praises the man profusely and gently rocks them. Hannibal finishes the drink, but does not remove the nib from his mouth, though he stops suckling. Will strokes his fluffy ashen hair and kisses a temple before he lies back against the arm of the cream couch with Lecter atop him.

The soothing, rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the mantlepiece acts as a lullaby, easily coaxing Hannibl into a peaceful slumber. Will too relaxes, resting his head back and wrapping protective arms around the slim frame above. They sleep for almost two hours, and it is Hannibal that wakes first. He is refreshed and energised, managing to gently ease the muscled arms off his torso. His body slumps to the floor after he rolls from the couch, but his legs are much too like jelly to support his weight. Instead, Hannibal settles for crawling albeit he does not expect Will to rouse.

The brunet is pulled from sleep when he hears a dragging noise, and his heart stops when he discovers the empty space on his chest. He sits up with wide eyes scanning the room, but he listens closely to the sound of small intakes of breath in the doorway. Standing, Graham moves to the door and looks down upon Hannibal's sprawled figure. The maroon eyed man stares back expectantly, mischief in his eyes that says 'well, what are you gunna do about it?'. Hannibal blinks, before Will can do anything his mouth clamps down on the other's leg. Will howls, tugging his offended limb away from the daggers piercing his skin. He smoothly scoops Hannibal up and slings the protesting man over his lap. Lecter squirms, though Graham does not stand for it and swats his thighs. The blond stops in visible shock.

“What on earth possessed you to do that, Hannibal?” Will exclaims, edging towards a shout but refraining.

Hannibal glares back at the man. “You actually think I like this? Just let me go, Will. Let me go and I will not kill you.” he threatens. Will scoffs.

“That is not happening and you know it. We're not scared of you, baby boy.” his remark is soft, not taunting but childlike that riles Lecter further; he portrays his utter frustration through a growl and a wriggle.

Will stands, drawing Hannibal close to his chest as he retrieves a needle. Hannibal increases his growls, but his thumping fists on Will's chest are deflected when Graham shoots the needle into the man's neck. Movements slow as Will sighs in relief. He returns to the previous position on the couch knowing that his leg will not be chewed off again. The tall male hangs limply, fully aware of his predicament but unable to defend himself. He slurs a threat that is replied with two swats.

“I do not know why you thought that would be a good idea, Hannibal.” he punctuates the words with swats. “But in this house such behaviour shall not be tolerated. I suggest you listen closely,” Hannibal tries his best to hiss.

“Your punishment will be much worse if this happens again. I shall tell your mama what happened, and she can punish you too if she deems fit. From now on, you'll constantly have your dummy unless you're eating or drinking to keep them teeth in check.

“You cannot talk anymore; that privilege is gone. Which means there will be no way to tell us if you wet yourself and you'll wait until we check you. Your rights will return when you go back to being a good boy, okay?” Will explains, continuing his mantra of slaps that grow harder and closer to sit spots as he goes. Hannibal dribbles, saliva dripping onto the floor as he cries softly.

When Will finishes, there is a pause of movement. Hannibal's whimpers are the significant sound in the room; Will ensures that Lecter knows he isn't messing around. They remain in the positions for only a moment longer before Graham lifts the ashen haired man onto his lap and hugs him. Hannibal cannot do anything to prevent the embrace, although he does admit secretly that the warm touch is nice.

Even with the heavy padding of the nappy, Hannibal can still vividly feel the burn of the slaps around his rear end and that, is not nice. He is surprised that the sensations could be felt as if there was no covering, but Hannibal supposes it implies complete dependence and helplessness. Anyway, his dangling body is manoeuvred upstairs and into the blue room; inside he is gagged with a large dummy that forces him to suck constantly - unless he wants an aching jaw and drool-infested shirt - and changed into an even bigger nappy. His clothes are replaced with a footed onesie that also has mittens attached (Will also makes Hannibal wear them) before the brunet deems he is done and lies Lecter in his cot. The bars are pulled up and checked then Will exits, leaving Hannibal all alone in the dark to rethink his actions.

It causes a small regression. Bedelia arrives later in the day, and after being told of Hannibal's incident she marches upstairs to see her little boy. He is sound asleep, curled up under the covers with sweaty hair and a chin glazed with drool. She coos lightly, but nonetheless abandons the man until he learns his place. Will is informed of the new plan whilst the blonde woman tends to his leg, even she winces at the clear bite marks. Both will make sure that Hannibal never behaves so rashly again.


	9. Chapter 9

It takes two weeks for Hannibal to crack. A remarkably lengthy time but still short for a man like Hannibal. He doesn't show any signs of emotion at first, recoiling into his mind palace for the most part with the exception of feeding times, when he has to concentrate if he prefers to not wear his food. Will admits that he is impressed, though with a scoff Bedelia claims that their vigorous procedures were the only factor to his premature submission.

Hannibal has refused to make eye contact, no matter whether he has been coaxed from his mind palace or not. He is put down for naps regularly to keep him placated, even if he reacts the same - silence and dead eyes. At one point his merciless glare sends chills as cold as his irises down Will's spine; Bedelia too is unhappy with his decision. Well, at least Will's leg has healed, for the most part.

The trio are situated on the couch when it happens. Bedelia purposely neglected Hannibal's wet nappy for a long period of time, allowing a rash to produce and cause discomfort that cannot be ignored. Lecter has wet it twice, unable to remove it without assistance he sat in it for the entirety of an hour and a half as it grew soggier and cold. Will holds Hannibal tightly, using the tactic Bedelia suggested (by that, they ignore him as if he were a child). The blond has a bib on, catching the drool dripping from his chin.

A few days before, Hannibal made the decision to refuse to suck his dummy. Since then, his jaw has ached substantially and he has not stopped drooling. He cannot help it, but now the dull pain is too significant to ignore. His rash burns as well, so he swallows his pride and kicks lightly, where his socked feet lay on Bedelia's lap. Sometimes she raises a foot to kiss the sole, but now she sends a warning glare to the man.

He responds with a distressed cry; one that Will knows is genuine therefore he removes the dummy gag. The minute Lecter tries to speak formally, it'll go back in. Graham doubts that is the biggest problem here. Despite this, Bedelia smiles as Hannibal whines and reaches for her with grabby hands. He cuddles her, drooling and crying over her blouse - she doesn't care; it washes out easily enough. Will uses his free hands to rush upstairs and collect what he needs.

Back downstairs, Bedelia bounces Hannibal on her lap and pecks his head with whispered reassurances. Will lays down a portable changing mat across the floor and sets out the fresh nappy, a dummy and plenty of creams and talcum powder. When he is done, Bedelia lies Hannibal with his back against the mat, after previously stripping him from the heated onesie. Lecter stares up at whoever is above with glossy eyes, not quite there but still aware of his surroundings.

Bedelia explains that he is regressing, and they should leave him be (mentally) by remaining silent but taking their time with the task at hand. Will agrees to stay by Hannibal's side whilst Bedelia changes him. Their actions are slow and deliberate, with grazed touches and soft kisses to the contours of Lecter's body. He is thoroughly cleaned and given excessive amounts of cream and powder, so even subconsciously he can feel it. Bedelia finishes up by dressing him in warm pyjamas leaving his feet bare and arms free. He can be fully trusted now.

Will pushes a dummy between Hannibal's lips and the ashen haired man accepts it eagerly, enchanted by the bobbing plastic. Success! The two carers are delighted with their results, mixed in with a lot of time and patience. Now Hannibal can finally be who he is without inhibitions or worries. That's all Will and Bedelia ever wanted for him. His well-being is their true concern and he will be loved.


	10. Chapter 10

Hannibal gurgles happily, clapping his hands in excitement, as Will reads a story about a great red dragon that becomes friends with a rich prince. Hannibal is utterly enticed, his glossy maroon eyes shine incomplete adoration when Graham leans down to kiss the Little's cheek before he continues with the remainder of the story. Bedelia, dressed as beautifully as ever, sits beside her boys with a smile as bright as the stars. She too listens intently, watching the two bond together. It warms her heart; and that is a difficult thing to achieve.

Later in the day, not long after lunch, Bedelia settles Hannibal in his pram with a snugly blanket and fresh nappy. He rubs his cheek on the soft material for comfort - he still finds socialising a little bit challenging, but his mama says that's okay so he doesn't mind. Mummy will keep him safe (she promised she would). They head into town to buy food and to Lecter's surprise mama tells him that if he behaves she shall allow him to select a toy.

He is as good as gold. Sitting still and quiet, he even waits whilst his mummy talks to the strangers that like to coo over him. Hannibal isn't particularly fond them sort of people, but mama knows they won't hurt him so she keeps her mouth shut. The blonde shall only intervene if her baby seems truly uncomfortable or wary of a person, and that is rare. Anyway, the trip does not take long, and soon enough everyone is home and safe; the parents are glad that their child has a stuffed bunny to keep him satisfied over the weekend. If he is occupied, he won't ask so many questions or be the curious cat he is (not that his inquisitive behaviour is bad, just not preferable among the tired 'adults').

In the late evening, Hannibal sits between his mummy and his daddy. He suckles on his bottle like a good boy and hums, flicking his feet in content. His daddy asks about his day, and listens as the blond tells him aaaall about the shopping trip and how he got a new bunny and how much he loves it and what he is going to do over the next week, oh and-     Sometimes Hannibal needs to be calmed down, cue his daily nap. If the day is especially exciting, the poor guy has to be put down for two, even three naps to placate him before they can continue, lest he begins to hurt someone in his joy.

So the child is lay down in his cot, snuggled underneath a soft, furry blanket that does not cause the sensitive skin to sweat. In the time that Hannibal sleeps, Bedelia asks Will to call Agent Crawford over, to asses the situation. Hannibal needs more than just his mummy and daddy in this new life, and Jack seems like a perfectly trustworthy guy (even if he can be a bit of an arsehole). He is commonly known as Uncle Jack anyway. When Will begrudgingly calls, Jack answers with a firm tone that proves he can come over.

Crawford is speculative, he is unsure what to expect after Will tells him where Hannibal is then hangs up. The buzzing of his phone alerts that he has a text message. It is a simple warning; telling him to remain calm and not freak out; something Jack finds a little unnerving. But he decides to pay them a visit. Long before Jack arrives, the two parents make it their mission to get Hannibal prepared. His nap is short but effective, and soon after his waking Hannibal is ready for his bath.

These days he can be trusted to sit in the tub with no need for drugs or the mat. He plays with plastic whales and giggles as they spurt water along the beige tiled walls. Bedelia sighs, though she does not reprimand the boy because at least he sits still and allows her to wash him. Away from the mayhem in the bathroom, Will tidies the house, quickly running the hoover around and dusting where seems necessary. It is rushed, yes, but that is not the point. They want a first-hand, witnessed reaction after the out of the blue invitation, to see whether Lecter can be introduced to people such as Alana and the Sassy Science crew.

Will hopes to hell that Jack will greet Hannibal nonjudgmentally and provide comfort or at least not terrify the life out of the kid. He does not have to wait long, as during his little world, lost in his cleaning, he is brought back with the doorbell ringing. Bedelia requests for him to answer it, and he does so quickly, after making a beeline for the cupboard with cleaning products in hand. Jack stands on the porch, hat low over his eyes and hands shoved in his pockets.

Graham ushers him inside away from the cold, but before Jack can ask why the hell he's stood in some strange house Bedelia enters, finely dressed with a greeting smile. “Good evening, Agent Crawford.” she says. Will admires her self control, she manages to appear unflustered - as if she hasn't had a long hard day - although it is nothing like Hannibal's remarkable composure.

Jack eyes her and seems to fall for the collected demeanour. “Evening; may I ask why I have come here?”

“I told you we knew where Hannibal was. We want you to see him, maybe even help us. Look, what we're doing may seem slightly unorthodox but Bedelia is his therapist and we have asked around and this seemed like the best option so-” Jack interrupts him, effectively silencing the man with a raised palm.

“Just tell me what you've done. Is he okay?” Jack's tone remains calm and unwavering.

“The method we have used is working excellently. Follow me.” Bedelia answers, beckoning them upstairs.

They stand just outside the door, watching Jack as he masks his curiosity. Will reminds him to be careful, then the trio finally enter. The room is lit, with Hannibal sat up in his cot without a dummy but wearing his usual childish attire. He snuggles in the blankets and jumper, clutching the new rabbit toy they purchased earlier as he stares at the newcomer. He freezes, eyeing the other up and down before he quietly whimpers and searches his mother's face for guidance.

Jack tilts his head, eyes narrowed in confusion as he observes the room with no hint of anger. After he inspects Lecter, ensuring that this is reality and not some messed up, tired-induced hallucination he then gauges how everyone else seems to comprehend the situation. Will smiles, glad that he does not have to remove the man or hear an earful of protests - yet. His stony eye soften some, and Will sees an expression that just doesn't see to fit Jack's face; one that appears as if he is acknowledging a child.

Crawford steps closer, and closer, until he stands beside the cot and turns to Bedelia for permission, she grants it as Jack lowers the bars. Hannibal is wary, watching with cautious eyes whilst his body is tugged from the back of his sanctuary. He emits a quiet whimper, but still allows himself to be held. Jack smiles, a contagious one that has Lecter grinning too. He clutches the man's cheeks, pressing them together and giggling as Jack bursts air from between his puckered lips.

Will cannot stop his eyes widening some at the sight of Jack interacting with Hannibal the same as he would a small child - he just seems...too tough to have such a side. Bedelia smiles too, she is hopeful that Jack will participate in their care system and even childmind Hannibal as a favour. At the moment, it appears that'll be likely to happen. Meanwhile, Crawford is completely entranced by Hannibal's younger side.

Jack observes the childish behaviour and even the drop of vocabulary in his speech. Hannibal seems to only manage small sentences or phrases, a huge difference to his usual self (he never shut up!). And the way he giggles and his complete dependence on others, Jack doubts he can even walk on his own without difficulty. He probably wouldn't need to, anyway. His biggest worry (Jack guesses) is what toy he shall play with or what story shall be read to him. What a relaxing life. Now wonder he seems content!

Hannibal, on the other hand, is still slightly cautious about the new man, but he doesn't seem like a threat so he'll be fine. Mama and daddy will protect him if anything happens - which it won't. He gurgles in content, the noise low and throaty. His grabby hands grasp Crawford's clothing, purchasing buttons and the collar and even manages to snag some hair. Jack is not particularly pleased at that, but he does not protest. The man would not know any better in such a mind state.

Once the mandatory introductions are over with Will moves everybody to the living room, where Hannibal is sprawled comfily across warm bodies. He cuddles up to his favoured blanket Bedelia decided to bring, glad that his wandering hands have something to preoccupy them. Jack strokes his hair, watching as Will nips into the kitchen to grab a bottle. Bedelia converses with Jack and appears indifferent to Lecter, only having him lay on her as a form of contact. Will returns, a plastic bottle in hand that he passes to his boss and requests him to feed the child. They talk absently, without mentioning once Jack's skill at feeding the Little.

When the bottle is drained and the conversation ends, Jack, with the help of Bedelia, lays a sleepy Hannibal in his cot to slumber. He is dead to the world, soft snores barely audible but there nonetheless; he is out of it. Crawford chuckles, watching for a lingering moment before he quietly exits behind the blonde. Downstairs, they discuss Hannibal's daily routine then Jack checks the time and surprisingly but begrudgingly leaves for his own home. The visit is a success, and they plan to meet again (with the promise that Jack will keep his lips sealed). They have found another carer; the next step is to introduce Hannibal to the rest of the group.


	11. Chapter 11

Jack and Will act no different around each other at work; in fact they seem to take on the role as parents in the lab. Poor Beverly has to cope with the constant bickers and their so called 'banter' from Jimmy and Brian, never getting a break and having to work alongside them all day. The woman is demented! She is surprised her eyeballs haven't fallen out from the number of times she has rolled them at the boys' stupid antics - if she was allowed she would slap them.

One calm afternoon the pair are especially giddy, skipping around and playfully shoving one another. They giggle and joke and even try to play pranks on a shattered Bev (she was up all night on a case). Jack marches in and seizes the two by their collars, both equally confused and annoyed. They complain and whine like little children meanwhile Will attempts to help Bev in her flustered state. She sends glares at her friends and tells Jack that she does not want to work around them if they continue behaving so rashly, so the agent drags them to his office for a chat. Will converses with her about the case then moves on to talk about how tired she appears.

“Yeah, well if them muppets can't learn about personal space then I am so getting a new lab!” Beverly explains, brushing away fallen hair with a loud sigh.

“They can be hard work, I wouldn't be able to deal with them like you can,” Will smiles, the contagious politeness drifting onto Bev's face. Jack enters with two very solemn scientists, both with lowered heads (if they had tails they would be between their legs).

“I think they're gonna leave you alone now Bev,” Jack says, nudging the men.

“We're very sorry for annoying you Bev!” the pair chime in unison. They wrap their arms around the onyx haired woman and smile.

“That's okay guys,” she reassures. “oh and thanks, Jack.” Will smiles, watching as the group embrace each other like siblings.

At Jack's soft command, everyone is back to work and the incident is forgotten about. Will pulls Crawford to one side when they are alone. He tells him about his and Bedelia's plan to stay away from Hannibal for one night, in hopes to build trust and a bond with Uncle Jack. The man instantly grows excited, demanding it to be as soon as possible so he can get to know this new side of his nephew.

Will leaves, then, and spends the remainder of his day lecturing before he can go home to his family. How domestic, eh? He never would've predicted that he'd feel such a way; in fact if you had asked him if he would ever consider children two months ago he probably would have laughed and shook his head. Now he has jitters as he impatiently waits for the ticking clock to move faster.

When time is up and students pack away their things, Will grabs his own things and is almost the first one out of the auditorium. He speeds to his car and reverses fast, whizzing away to avoid after-school traffic. Graham just slips away from the hectic atmosphere and heads home first, to change and spend a little time with his dogs. After around an hour and a half he arrives at Bedelia's house; where she answers the door wearing a tired expression.

“He's being a bit of a handful at the moment.” Bedelia sighs, running a delicate hand over her pristine makeup. Will nods with a poker face, stepping inside the house to hear distant crying.

He follows the sound up to Hannibal's room, standing in the doorway for a while to watch the squirming figure thrash his limbs in attempt to free them from the restricted bods holding him down. Lecter cries, yelling for his parents in between hiccups as he does not notice Will's presence. He begins to beg in a native tongue, one that Graham cannot identify and has difficulty comprehending.

“Hannibal,” Will says, voice stern and soft. Hannibal's eyes lock on his substitute father's and he cries some more, struggling now to reach for the man. His bound arms pull against the tethers as he makes grabby hands for Will, who advances towards the cot.

He can feel the heat and sweat radiating from the blond, as well as the overpowering sense of abandonment and despair. Will pulls down the bars after untying his baby and allows the sobbing man to lurch forward and cling to him (even if he is winded in the process). Eventually, succeeding many hair strokes and cheek caresses, Hannibal calms enough to breathe shallowly. Will whispers encouragement in his ear until they can both rock together in a relaxing rhythm. When the steady flow of composure washes through Graham's veins, he releases the other and stares into bloodshot eyes.

Hannibal rubs his face vigorously, scrubbing at the blotchy skin until it reddens further and looks painful. Will gathers the hands in his own and kisses the palms, preventing any more damage. Bedelia does not enter, but Will expects her to remove herself for a while, to take a break from the guessed mayhem. Without intervention, Hannibal would run havoc, whether or not by his own intention Will doesn't care - he just wants everybody to be safe, especially the man in the mind set of a youngster.

Well, however energetic Hannibal was before, he isn't now - quite the opposite. Now he rests limply against his father as his thumb creeps towards his mouth. Will allows him until he can seek a suitable dummy in replacement. Hannibal whines around the appendage, refusing to leave Will's side; so the man kindly carries him. At least the blond helps (he wraps his legs around people and relieves some of his weight subconsciously), remaining quiet and content, fatigued from the angst he faced prior.

When Will eventually finds a dummy, he immediately switches it with Hannibal's thumb, wiping off the slobber on his shirt - he doesn't care, it'll dry. Hannibal raises the same hand again to gently clutch the damp fabric between his fingers, stroking the calming material with his baby finger. Lecter either ignores or is not aware of the stench of sweat, tears and other bodily fluids emanating from his body. The clothes he wears are a darker shade than their original colour and stick to his skin uncomfortably.

Graham decides to bath the child, taking him to the adjacent bathroom. The blond is then hastily undressed as lukewarm water trickles into the tub, filling by each second. Will adds bubbles, allowing Hannibal to sit on the floor beside his messed pile of clothes, watching the froth increase with awe. Whilst he is briefly left to his own devices, Will selects a new set of pyjamas -  a light, cotton material designed to keep the man cool and cosy all at once. He also collects the tools for a nappy change and a spare dummy he discovers nearby that he didn't notice before.

Inside the bathroom, Hannibal gurgles to himself behind the dummy and wraps his hands around the soles of his feet, abruptly giggling at the tickling sensation as his feet jerk. His eyes watch the swirling water with complete concentration, absorbed by the noise and rush of bubbles caught under the tap. Will stands in the doorway and observes with a smile. Hannibal will not acknowledge his daddy when there are pretty bubbles to look at instead; he sees daddy's handsome face everyday! Bubbles are a rarity.

Will checks the waters temperature then undoes Hannibal's nappy, recoiling from the putrid material as he dunks Lecter into the tub. The splashing starts almost instantly and in less than two minutes Will's shirt and thighs are thoroughly soaked. Loud laughter fills the room, echoing off the walls as Hannibal seems to find Will's predicament quite hilarious.

Ten minutes in and all Will has managed to achieve is a set of very wet clothes and a very happy Hannibal. Yet, somehow even when soapy water makes up almost the entire bathroom, Hannibal does not become clean. In fact his hair sticks to his face and drips, shampoo molding the flat streaks of blond and flesh tinted from the warm water but not clean. He still smells too.

Before Graham can have a breakdown, Lecter releases a long yawn and his hands still on the surface of the water. The splashing ceases and Will takes the opportunity to wash the shampoo out of his hair then rewash it. Soap is applied to sticky skin until it glows healthily and Hannibal begins to doze. Lecter is exhausted from his tantrum and all the hyperactive things he has done today. The warm hands caressing his body send him off into a light slumber whilst Will remains silent and finishes the job. By the time Graham has rinsed off the last of the soap and lifted Hannibal from the tub, the poor guy is fast asleep.

He doesn't even stir as he is laid on a towel atop of the bed and dried off. His silky hair is scrubbed with a towel and left to dry in its damp state. Bedelia may not be too happy about that, but Will knows he can win the argument as he has finally sent the guy to sleep he so desperately needs. Du Maurier can relax, at last, guaranteed that she will not be disturbed anymore. Hannibal's head lolls against Will's bicep as he is carried bridal style to his cot and carefully set on his back.

He rolls onto his right side with his back to the door, naked except for his thick nappy swaddling his lower regions. Will lays a heavy blanket over the other knowing he would be too cold without it but would sweat wearing clothes. Bedelia informed him that lately he has had a few nightmares, mostly occasional but they last long and have serious affects on his mental state and at one point Hannibal briefly regressed further. The night had taken its toll on the pair for sure.

Will slips a dummy into the blond's mouth and sweeps away the damp locks out of his eyes before he heads into the bathroom to discard of the dirtied clothes, toys and drain the water from the tub. He is as quiet as a hunter, packing away everything in near silence even if he is certain that the man won't budge - fatigue has drawn Lecter far into the abyss of darkness. When the bathroom is clear, he switches off the bright light then closes the door and leaves the room entirely. Downstairs, him and Bedelia discuss going away for a night. Instead of renting a room at a hotel, they plan to just stay at Will's whilst Jack builds on his relationship with Hannibal.

Later, when Bedelia has drank herself into retirement, Will texts Jack the plan. The brief information turns into a conversation until the topic arises with a mention of the incident at work. Jack expresses his concern for Bev and how her seemingly brotherly colleagues treat her these days; Will agrees. They hope that over the course of next week the number of behavioural incidents will decrease, so Jack can have some closure otherwise he will have to take matters into his own hands - for Beverley's sake. The call ends on a high, as Will retells the story of Hannibal's hyper day and what he learned happened off Bedelia prior to the call. Jack shares his excitement before they hang up and Will too retires.

 

In the morning, Will rouses to the sound of distressed cries, not nearly as frantic as the ones previously but they do not sound pleasant. Graham groans, rubbing his tired eyes as he lazily slips his glasses on and adjusts their lopsided position as he stumbles to Hannibal's room. Lecter is sat up, also rubbing his eyes that are bloodshot and surrounded by blotchy skin that has been irritated by the scrubbing of his palms. Will sighs, giving the man a sad smile as he pproaches, forcing the fatigue from his mind so he can focus on what Hannibal needs. The man beckons the brunet with grabby hands, desperate to make contact with the clammy palms. When WIll is close enough to touch, Hannibal pulls his wrist forward and spits out his dummy so he can latch on to the middle appendage. Graham watches in bewilderment, surprised at the action that has never happned before but he does not react angrily. Instead, the man chuckles and shifts his position to lower the bars.

Hannibal slips the finger out of his mouth with a happy grin, arms up in a request to be carried. He giggles with glee as his body is lifted up and onto Will's hip - in return he wraps his legs around the waist to make mobility easier. Lecter emanates a quiet whine, drawing Will's attention to him as he opens his mouth. Nothing comes out, but a few seconds later a gurgle fro the blond's stomach makes itself known as Graham raises his eyebrows in understanding.

 “Are you hungry little man?” Will asks, voice high with animation.

“Yah, dada.” Hannibal answers, looking down at Will's shirt wound around his fingertips.

“We better go get you some breakfast then, eh? But we must be quiet as mummy's still asleep, okay?” Will reminds, smiling widely as Hannibal nods and raises a finger to his lips with a 'ssshhh'. With a laugh and a small giggle, the two make their way downstairs and to the kitchen, where Will sets Hannibal down on a chair.

Bedelia and Will agreed that there would be no reason to use a high chair as Hannibal would behave and they would be able to trust him not to wander under instruction. And with his height, they doubted they'd ever find a model comfortable or suitable enough for their needs, so having a high chair was not an option. Besides, they could (as predicted) trust the man not to move, although each time he must be reminded to ensure he doesn't try to go off on an adventure.

This morning, Hannibal is wide awake but thankfully (especially for Will) is not (yet) hyper. He sits on the chair obediently swinging his legs and humming a tune that is so childish Will - if he didn't know Lecter - would never be able to tell that he liked opera previously. The song originates from a show on a children's programme, one that Bedelia must have switched on to distract Hannibal yesterday as he usually finds other activities to do instead of wasting his life glued to the television. More productive things that will stimulate his intellect.

Will makes a simple breakfast of cereal and milk. Under the headspace, Hannibal has poor motor skills and so often needs assistance when completing hand-eye coordination tasks. Such as feeding himself or catching things - he's especially bad at colouring inside the lines these days - which can be frustrating for the child but he enjoys having mummy and daddy's help too so it's never usually a big issue (even if he was once so magnificently talented at drawing). He sets aside his own cereal and neglects adding milk, instead moving to sit beside Hannibal.

He adjusts his stance so he can comfortably feed the babbling male. The game 'here comes the airplane' should never be used as it brings tears; Bedelia learned that from experience. Although, Hannibal has never had a fear of flying, so they cannot comprehend what frightens the man so much. So, to prevent the upset Will simply hums his own tune (something in the charts he heard on the car radio during his drive up) as he lifts a spoon of cheerios to Lecter's lips and watches the man latch on to the silverware instantly.

Lecter continues to eat his breakfast at a steady pace, his hands tapping atop the table as his feet graze along the cool tiles. Will smiles and even sometimes adds praise to the mouthfuls, interrupting his humming and sending Hannibal into questionable fits of cachinnation. He has no clue what is so funny but he laughs along, acting utterly surprised and dramatically offended when Hannibal claims 'daddy's such a silly billy!'. At one point he briefly chokes on his food, adding an animated 'ew' when milk dribbles onto his chin.

Will heartily chortles at that, wiping away the substance with kitchen roll and realises the bowl is empty, save for a gulp of milk. He dares not try and have Hannibal drink it (he prefers not to have the kitchen reeking of vomit) therefore stands so abruptly that the blond jumps, then laughs again at his unnecessary fright. The brunet is back in an instant after retrieving a warm bottle of milk straight from a boiling pan on the stove.

He dislikes heating the drinks by microwave, feels it is more natural to have the bottle in a pan of water above fire to avoid the waves of radiation and such in microwaves. Anyway, he passes the bottle to Lecter and lifts the man up, taking him through the doorway and into the living room to relax on the couch. He grabs the remote and lies Hannibal across his lap, head resting against the arm of the enticing couch as his legs spread over the other cushions. Will pulls off the blanket from behind him and places it atop of the body on his, noting the small shivers as the man just wears a nappy.

Snuggled together, the pair watch a documentary about penguins as Will holds the bottle vertically so Hannibal can suckle without using his hands (he would probably miss his mouth anyway). Hannibal squeals around the nib, wailing 'penguin!' every time a clan waddles on the screen. Will finds it way too adorable, adding his own remarks consisting of 'really?' and 'yeah Hannibal, that's right, penguins you clever boy!'. It is a great start to the day. The afternoon turns out pretty smoothly too.

A grateful Bedelia arrives from her lie-in just after one, clearly battling the lingering hangover plaguing her skull. She smiles tiredly, half-heartedly hugging her excited son as he blabbers on about how much fun he has been having with his daddy. Will smirks, cross-legged on the floor watching as Bedelia struggles to remain upright with the weight of Hannibal clinging to her, but decides against abandoning the annoyed female by prying Hannibal away from her body. Lecter pouts, though nonetheless joins his daddy on the floor again. Bedelia briefly heads to the kitchen to get herself a large glass of water and some painkillers, all the while mentally begging Hannibal to stop squealing so loudly.

“Mummy? Will you come play with us pleaseee!” Hannibal begs, going as far as crawling to the kitchen doorway to give Bedelia the puppy eyes (the woman cannot pull discreet faces of irritation anymore).

“In a little while Hanni, mummy's not feeling too well at the moment.” Bedelia says, restraining herself from ignoring him. She uses the softest tone possible, even if it may cause a strop.

“Han, leave mama alone - you see her allll the time! Don't you want to spend the whole day with daddy?” Will interjects, just before Hannibal starts to cry; saving the tears for later. Hannibal rapidly swivels around to face Graham, delight twinkling in his glossy eyes.

“Really?” Will nods, sparing a short glance at Bedelia who mouths her thanks and returns to her drink. Hannibal moves back towards Will on hands and knees, remarkably quick for a man his age to be crawling such a way. Will settles the blond on his lap and explains how they can go to the park, but they have to stay away from all the people (Hannibal has made his terms - he doesn't like going out in public and the parents still believe he has subconscious inhibitions) and stick to the outskirts.

Eventually, the pair formulate a simple plan and Will scoops his child up to get ready for the day. He dresses first, lying Hannibal down on the bed as he picks out clothes he left behind for times when he sleeps over. It doesn't take long for him to get ready, having showered the previous day he could have one in the evening. And, to top it all off he doesn't have the burden of bathing Hannibal either so it is a win-win situation. Will ensures Lecter is fully wrapped up, even taking the time to manoeuvre Hannibal into long johns to keep him warm underneath a jumper, thick coat, scarf, long and woollen beanie hat with matching puffy gloves as well as long, thick pants and huge welly socks. The poor guy looks like a balloon!

Hannibal whines, not liking the weight of so many clothes and struggles to remove the items with his bad hand-eye coordination issue. Will lies him down again so he can put on his own additional wear, knowing that the starfish will not be able to move far under all the protection. When he is done, Graham thanks the boy for being so good and slips a dummy between the others lips to quieten him, successfully shutting the guy up so he can grab his keys and get out the door. At last, the two make it downstairs, bidding a shivering Bedelia goodbye.

On the way out, Will snakes a hand away from Hannibal's torso to switch on the heating for an hour, before finally stepping outside. The streets are barren; everybody has bought what they need for Christmas and gone against going outside in the cold. Hannibal emits a 'brrr' and snuggles into his daddy until the reach the car, where he is placed in a fitted carseat and secured in. He fiddles with the lock on the straps but with his fingers encased inside the glove he can do no more than fold his hand around the contraption. Will laughs at the sight from the window but with a chill of wind he is quickly making a beeline for his side. The heater is turned on just as fast as the ignition is, then the brunet swiftly reverses out of the drive and onto the empty road.

It is still just as silent at the park - the only people there are a cuddling couple with their own 'special' child wrapped up tightly in a pram. Hannibal stares, just the way a curious toddler would before Will notices and distracts him by asking if he wants to play on the apparatus. Hannibal declines, still polite as ever and opts out for relaxing on a bench instead. He refuses to move off Will's lap, perching there as he observes nature. Lecter is quiet, only breaths of wispy air indicating that he isn't dead. Will cranes his neck to see that he hasn't fallen asleep yet either, which is surprising since he hasn't had a nap all day and he's probably been the most active from when he first began his new life (well, maybe in second place behind yesterday).

Instead, it is peaceful. Will himself can enjoy some time out in the fresh air without having to maintain a grim expression as he overlooks another corpse. The silence coerces his mind to hush too, only the whispering wind having a significant sound. Hannibal sighs, completely relaxed as he leans back against Will and rests his head on his daddy's shoulder. The couple watch with smiles, and Will sees them check their sleeping baby wishing they could do the same - he feels it. Pushing away the emotions that aren't his own, Graham wraps his arms tighter around Lecter's middle and tilts his cheek to lay on Hannibal's. It is comforting.

When half an hour passes and the couple have left, Will decides that the biting cold may try to bite off more than it can chew. He does not want Hannibal to get sick of course. So he stands, stretching protesting legs as the limp blond is adjusted so his legs loop around Will's hips and his body is moulded around his own. Hannibal is barely awake, but forces himself to remain conscious just so Will isn't neglected with dead weight; he's sure they'd collapse. At the car, he uncoils in his seat and lolls his face on the side of the chair, allowing Will to move his arms through the niches of the seatbelt to clip him in.

Once asleep, Will drives home at a slow pace, willing to have Hannibal nap for as long as he can under the soothing motion of the car. In the rear view mirror he sees Hannibal's dummy bob gently, finding it adorable how young the man can look when unstressed. Bedelia expects their company soon, and so dresses in the most casual clothes she has with intentions to have a chill day without interruptions. _Hopefully Lecter will be asleep or tired when he returns_ , she thinks. And he is. Still flat out from such a productive day Hannibal sleeps deeply, only stirring as he is lifted from his carseat.

Will navigates his way into the house and upstairs, where he undresses Hannibal and changes him into a thick nappy and onesie. Bedelia smiles, entering the room wearing a top and pants she wouldn't usually be seen in. Will silently requests they go on a trip, to which Bedelia chuckles with the agreement that she can nap on the way there. Will is far from reluctant, intending to catch a few winks himself later on. They wake Hannibal and tell him they are going out for a little while and that he has to stay awake for at least another half hour.

Whiny, upset Hannibal has a tired tantrum, too fatigued to put up much of a fight as he is taken back to the car and strapped in. The radios atrocious music plays too loudly for him to doze off again, but just like mummy and daddy promised half an hour later the music is lowered and he can finally go to sleep. Will drives the long journey with two deeply sleeping companions, each dead to the world despite the many bumps and sharp turns. His radio is the only thing keeping him sane in the otherwise silence. But at least he knows the pack is waiting for him; they will definitely need to go do their business but Will is glad Jack stopped by in the morning to feed them before he left for work.

He gradually speeds up as his house becomes larger in the windshield, before he stops his car abruptly and goes straight to the front door. The curly brunet allows the dogs to mill about and have a long toilet break, having them release their excitement outside rather than on a cranky, baby Hannibal (though Bedelia would not be impressed either). Thankfully, the pack haven't made any mess since he last cleaned the house so the place isn't exactly disgusting - even so Will sprays febreeze in every room to mask the faded dog smell. Then, he gathers the animals into the living room where he sets up the sofa bed and warns his dogs not to touch it.

Will jogs back outside, waking Bedelia and carrying Hannibal inside. He shows the woman to his bed then relaxes himself with Lecter on the sofa bed, having the man lie beside him. No less than five minutes later Hannibal is curled up, lying with his upper body atop Will's torso and he sucks his dummy tiredly. Will strokes the smooth hair with a deep breath as Hannibal's head creeps as far up as his chest, listening to the rhythmic thumping of Will's heartbeat. Dogs trip over one another to gain a spot beside the men - Buster and Winston have front row seats either side of the males. Eventually, everyone is asleep, dreaming peacefully of winter and the oncoming holiday.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has been hatching a plan.

Work is pretty stressful for Bedelia. She has been so busy, catering to all her patients as well as Hannibal - the long days are taking their toll on her. Hannibal tries to behave, he does, but it's very difficult to have a high attention span when you have the mindset of a young toddler. For example; he never remembers much of what she says, like in the mornings if she bothers to explain the itinerary. He does listen, but the words are so boring and long that he just forgets, so later on in the day he can't help asking his many questions. Lately he has taking to asking a lot of 'why?' questions; Bedelia is not happy that he has hit that stage. Currently, Will, being the ever man he is, helps out as best he can and has some leeway from Jack so he can take Hannibal off his mummy's hands for a little while. Graham perfectly understands her annoyance.

Hannibal enjoys sitting outside. At the moment, it's his favourite thing to do. And that would be great - you know, leaving everyone alone and remaining silent so his parents can have some bliss every once in a while - but unfortunately he has decided that in the middle of a snowy winter it is the best time to plonk himself down on the patio. Lecter may sit there for half and hour, dithering in the crisp air but refuses to come back inside unless offered intervention. He will do nothing except stare at the sky or the fence and the birds; nobody quite understands why. Bedelia leaves him, wrapped up completely of course, until even she doubts that the suitable protection cannot fend off the creeping cold any longer. Hannibal, the first few times, threw tantrums and cried to be let back out when locked inside. He thrashed in Will's grip and said that outside was nice, can't he have a few more minutes, please, he promises to be a good boy!

Will never relents, holding onto the wild man tightly until his crying calms into sniffles and he lies heavily on the brunet. After that, there is quiet, usually a nap or cuddling ensues. Once Hannibal is warm again and his body doesn't quake with shivers, Will can lie him down, alone, to rest. He's improving, though. Becoming a lot more aware of their concerns and why they wish for him to spend less time outside during this season, they have assured him he can stay out for plenty more hours as soon as the weather warms. Hannibal agrees to the restrictions, reluctant but not wayward - something his guardians deeply appreciate.

It also seems that Lecter is beginning to develop mentally again; he has opinions (strong ones, Will would argue) and likes to participate in many conversations, usually growing frustrated when he is spoken to in high-pitched voices and comprehensible words. He watches documentaries, now, dislikes the cartoons and fusses when he is told to endure them. Rebellious signs peek through his personality too, he enjoys challenging his peers and has a sharp tongue. Not any different to his regular self, not really. Tantrums aren't that often any more either; Hannibal grows upset and may (rarely) cry if he doesn't have his way but he restrains from wailing and thrashing. Bedelia is proud and Will is relieved.

He also finds delight in spending time with Jack, as on most occasions they are left alone and considering Jack has never indulged in parenthood himself he turns a blind eye to Hannibal's progress and instead engrosses him in intellectual discussions. Hannibal loves uncle Jack very much indeed. They can converse for hours, non-stop until they have to revert to quiet time and colouring or giggling and cuddling when either parent returns home. It is a secret they promise to keep and intend to meet further - simply because Jack adores Hannibal and said man reveres in Jack's behaviour - he wishes to ameliorate his previous exalt.

When Bedelia and Will depart from the household, they worry for their child despite many reassurances and hugs from their child. Jack is insistent that they go before changing their minds, and that the pair will have a great time. Though unwilling to oblige, the two oblivious 'adults' drive away for the night. They are unaware of the mischief Hannibal intends to drag Jack into, as he waves with a doleful expression. Jack closes the door and sends Lecter a smile and ruffles his hair, heading into the living room as Hannibal sends a nasty look and readjusts his parting before following.

There, they sit together and talk over the news, expressing opinions as Hannibal inwardly struggles to form longer sentences than short phrases he is so used to blurting. He calms his irritation before Jack receives an insight and takes his time producing strings of words that he hopes make sense to Crawford, who is blissfully unaware of his nephew's frustration. When the reports have been finalised and the latest soap drama is beginning to air, Hannibal produces his best 'puppy face' as he turns towards Jack. His previously large sentences are lessened to single words - he requests to go outside and pouts when refused.

“Can we go to your house instead, uncle Jack?” Hannibal pushes, hoping his whining will get him somewhere (he can understand how kids enjoy using this method to earn their desires).

“No, Hannibal, not today.” Jack responds firmly, keeping his tone calm. Hannibal pouts further this time, clambering onto Jack's lap as he tilts his head sadly. Crawford watches him, unmoved.

“Pleaseeeee!” Lecter begs, adding a childish hint to his voice that he is sure will turn Jack soft and maliable. To his displeasure, it doesn't. The agent simply shakes his head and gently pushes Hannibal away. The blond frowns, eyebrows knitted together as he rifles through his mind palace in attempt to find another manipulation method. 

Jack recognises the look of concentration on Hannibal's features and takes the time to pack away the various toys and art utensils (designed for children's safety) off the floor. He checks the carpet for any spills and when he deems it clean Crawford glances at the staring man before him. 

Snuggled up on the couch in a onesie, Hannibal does not appear very harmful (in fact, one might say he looks adorable) albeit Jack (thinks he does) knows how twisted Hannibal can be. He is an expert at word play - and has practised projecting emotions different to the ones he feels; even id most of the time he is indifferent and stoic. Lecter returns from his thoughts, shutting the doors to his mind palace as he regards Jack with a innocent smile. 

Wary, Jack smiles back, knowing full well that Hannibal is planning something disastrous. He almost regrets agreeing to mind the baby as Hannibal slips off the couch and heads to his room. Not wanting to appear suspicious the onyx haired man departs to the kitchen to warm up a bottle, and listens closely to the scuffling upstairs. After the bottle has heated the agent almost dashes to Hannibal's room to find he is simply lying on the floor, eyes cast on the ceiling. Too stationary to be believable. 

Jack chuckles heartily, watching the blond roll on his side to grin up at the other, seemingly happy about something. Crawford cannot begin to guess what the boy has done in his absence, so instead gathers the body on the floor into his arms and collapses into the rocking chair with a groan. Hannibal refuses to look away from the ceiling, staring with a solid expression at a particular spot. However, Jack is wiser and does not follow his gaze, concentrating on not spilling the drink anywhere since Lecter doesn't want to cooperate. 

They sit in silence, Hannibal greedily sucking on the nib of the bottle as he is rocked soothingly. His eyes droop, still focused on the same spot, but he forces them open every time they droop. Jack laughs, impressed with the man's fight. Expecting him to relent, Jack keeps up with the rocking and allows his eyes to track around the room, not wanting to intimidate Hannibal by staring. However, nothing seems to placate the other, whose intent gaze is set firmly on the ceiling and appears not to notice Jack finally peak at the spot in curiosity; frowning when he discovers plain white. Crawford is not convinced, but does not push the matter and instead sets Hannibal in his cot for a nap, announcing that he shall stay in there until morning, but to call if there are any mishaps during the night. Hannibal says his farewells and snuggles down, tearing his fixture on the ceiling onto Jack's body. After, he closes his eyes and listens to the light switch turn off, leaving the dull glow of the night-light to bask the room in orange. Once the door has clicked shut, Hannibal allows himself an evil grin, scooting as far back from the patch of white above him so not to feel his work later on.

Jack sighs, heavily making his way to the living room where he sets his laptop on the coffee table and switches on the news, ensuring that he lowers the volume first. Blaring colours on the screen send him wincing, but soon enough Jack is immersed in his work, typing furiously at the keyboard in determination to finish writing up a case and several important emails. He's glad Hannibal agreed to an early bedtime without fuss. There is only silence upstairs, and the agent allows himself to get distracted, completely focused on completing his work accurately and rapidly. His face is grim as he proofreads a case Will helped him solve; a particularly bloody one that he would prefer kept away from prying eyes (Hannibal he is most concerned about).

Two sentences before finalising the document, Jack hears a distressed cry and passes it off as the TV. When it persists, he saves the files and gallops upstairs, to find an upset Hannibal pinning himself to the back of his cot as a shower of water gushes from the ceiling. It is the exact spot Lecter stared at earlier, and he cannot guess how the man knew it would be there but he has a theory it was planned. That aside, the uncle gathers the snivelling child into his arms and removes him from the room, returning alone and with a bucket. Hannibal crouches in the doorway, watching with wide and hopeful eyes as Jack clears away the excess of puddles rapidly soaking the carpet.

Crawford tries so hard not to curse, succeeding (with the exception of the odd muttered profanity under his breath) in that and in preventing further spills from the rafters. A low sigh emits from his mouth, tired eyes cast along the damage. Immediately, he goes for his phone but a cry from behind grasps his attention. Hannibal reaches out for him, unable to sit alone (that's what Jack deduces) after an event like this. Previous theories of this being plotted beforehand are out the window as distressed Hannibal whimpers in his arms. Lecter begs him not to tell mummy and daddy or they'll get mad and he'll be in big trouble. 

Reassured but not sated, Hannibal squirms and whines, refusing to settle until Jack promises to take him to his house. Jack doesn't want to do that, though, and his reluctance is obvious. With a tad more insistence, Jack is sighing. “Okay, okay!” he exclaims. Hannibal calms considerably. 

He frowns when Jack momentarily neglects him on the floor to inform the parents of the situation, who agree but share their concerns, assuring Jack that it was probably coincidental and that it wasn't anybody's fault. Phone call ended, Jack is quick to pack a bag for Hannibal, layer the said man up and collect his things. With everything turned off and the house locked up, the two men are on their way to Jack's; despite the excitement and celebration of his working plan Hannibal is soon asleep under the smooth motion of tyres on road. 

He's a very happy guy.  _Oh yes he is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey sorry for such a long wait  
> no lie i've been busy  
> oooh naughty hanni!  
> okay see you later


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a short one tbh (sorry)  
> I'm not discontinuing this, per se, but setting it on more of a hiatus.  
> sorry again I have no time and am lacking inspiration - i shall not post monotone work for the sake of uploading, so please give me suggestions or requests for what you want to happen and I'll try my best

Hannibal didn't get away with his plan. Unfortunately the man's mind no longer works as efficiently as it once did, and his childlike ways portray his devious plot. Will spotted it first, when he'd gone to Jack's to collect Hannibal. The man had leaped into his arms and snuggled up, refusing subtly to show his face. Even in the car he had avoided looking at Will, deciding to conceal his head underneath his blanket and stuffed toy. Graham had caught on immediately, and taken Lecter away from the house for a few hours to allow the repairmen to do their magic on the ceiling. 

The previous doctor met new friends, whilst Will muttered down the phone to Bedelia on her break. Luckily, Jack was kind enough to give Will two days off to watch out for Hannibal, knowing the man was currently not to be trusted. Today is the second day, and Lecter is not a happy bunny. He's been wriggling around and whining all day, refusing to cooperate with anything. Will is at the end of his tether with the guy. At first, he thought it was due to all the changes and stress - Hannibal attempted to send a kick to his stomach when he tried to wake him up. Since then, it has been a down-facing roller coaster.

Getting Hannibal bathed was a problem. Will thinks he had a better wash than the other did; with all the kicking, splashing and crying Graham was drenched within minutes (he didn't stand a chance!). He hastily lathered soap over the slippery body and rinsed, before throwing a towel over the sobbing male. Hannibal cried to be released, writhing underneath the material and overall not doing anything to help. Eventually, Will had tackled him to the floor, pinioned by his knees whilst he rubbed the towel everywhere he could reach, finally succeeding. Lecter choked on tears.

Feeding him breakfast was even worse. On the couch, Hannibal had laid down, quiet until seeing the bottle. From there, he'd squealed, twisting away. Graham was exasperated - each turn of moving the bottle sent Hannibal into fits of tears, drawing his knees up and ripping his head away from the offending plastic. “Aren't you hungry baby? C'mon, please be good and drink this and then you can do whateverrr you want! Doesn't that sound enticing?” Will negotiated, sending the blond a pointed look when Hannibal took a moment to consider the options. To the officer's relief, he opened his mouth for the bottle and drank it down, reluctant to eat breakfast and eager to be left alone. 

Once that ordeal was over Hannibal became quiet and pliant, content to colour pages in from his miniature scrapbook whilst his daddy finished up marking his students' papers. It was peaceful, the classical music Big Hannibal prefers acting sufficiently as background noise and seemed to relax the ashen-haired man dressed in a jumper and pants. Eventually he had started up his protests again, complaining that he was hungry and wanted some food. Will gladly made him some porridge to shut him up, just so he could finalise the marking and get it out of the way. Until Hannibal spilled some on himself, and cried that he was useless.

“Hannibal babe you're not useless! I'm so impressed that you haven't even asked for daddy's help! And look, it's only a little bit anyway,” Will reassures, desperate for the whining to stop. Can't he just be quiet for ten minutes?

“I am, I am! I've ruined my jumper daddy!” Hannibal sobs, crocodile tears running across his cheeks as his hands retract into his sleeves.

“No honey, calm down for me, yeah? I can sponge it off and it'll all be fine!” Will responds, offering his hand to guide Hannibal to the kitchen. The man watches in awe, clearly regressed further today as the brunet dabs at the mess and gradually removes it, with only a diminutive wet patch to indicate there even was an accident. Graham sends the other an 'I told you so' look, discarding the sponge in the sink and dashing back to collect the empty bowl to leave there too.

Hannibal thanks him, significantly calmer and a lot less flushed. Almost immediately Hannibal hunkers down on the floor again to finish his colouring and manages to keep himself occupied for Will to not only mark all of the papers, but plan two lessons too! He is more than grateful and allows Hannibal to pick a grown-up TV channel for an hour (everything will be PG considering it isn't even half one yet). Lecter bounds, grasping the opportunity as he flicks through the options thoughtfully, comically tapping his chin as he makes a decision - finally (to nobody's surprise) picking Food Network. Will compliments his choice and settles down with the other situated on his lap.

Bedelia finds them there when she arrives home; except they are both asleep and a cartoon is playing softly. She switches off the TV and gently wakes Will to notify him of her presence, smiling as he groans and cracks his weary eyes open. Hannibal rouses not long after with all the movement: his face lights up at the sight of his mummy. She is almost crushed in his intense grip, gasping for breath when at last he eases off and backs away to give her space, blushing and apologising quietly. Will sighs, seeing how well-behaved he suddenly is when he knows Bedelia is the more stricter of parents. He'll have to show who's boss next time, he notes.


End file.
